Of Envy and Darkness
by Phenyx
Summary: The new chairman faces more changes in his life. Here is the last chapter. I hope you liked it. FINISHED.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Put disclaimer here. Don't think of it as copyright infringement. Consider this as an unpaid advertisement to increase interest in "The Pretender" while we wait for the series to come out on DVD and video.  
  
This story is chocked full of "Island of the Haunted" spoilers. As a matter of fact, if you haven't seen IOTH, you'll have no clue what is going on. As a result, I felt it necessary to include a short synopsis of the movie with the pertinent information, for those who may need it. Note that the character of Mercedes was not in the movie, never mentioned anywhere. She is a creation of the muse in my head.  
  
If you did see the movie, feel free to skip to the next chapter.  
  
IOTH synopsis  
  
The movie starts with a dark-skinned African named Adama. He has been sent to The Centre by the Triumvirate to find the scrolls. It was rumored that The Centre held these mystic scrolls, giving The Centre its power. The Centre didn't have them. They'd been bluffing. It turns out that everyone has been searching for these ancient writings, including Jarod's mother. Jarod goes to the island of Carthis searching for his mother. Parker goes to Carthis as well.  
  
Jarod barely misses meeting his mother when the island is evacuated because of a storm. The pretender is stranded on the island with Miss Parker, a blind prophet named Ocee, a handful of menacing monks and the ghost of a little girl named Parker who was murdered by her father nearly a century ago.  
  
The ghost, coincidentally called "Angel" by only her father, helps Parker find the trail to the missing scrolls. In the process, Parker learns that Angel's father, after murdering his entire family, came to America and founded The Centre. He was Miss Parker's great-grandfather.  
  
Parker, greatly distressed at the depths of evil in her family tree, allows Jarod to comfort her and they very nearly kiss. When Jarod later mentions what almost happened between them, Parker calls it a moment of weakness and asks him to forget about it.  
  
Jarod and Miss Parker find the scrolls, of course. But before they can read them, Mr. Parker, Raines and Lyle arrive on the scene to take both the scrolls and Jarod into their custody. Handing these prizes over to Adama, Mr. Parker seems to fortify The Centre's allegiance to the Triumvirate.  
  
At this point, in a subplot that has little to do with the rest of the story, Miss Parker learns that Mr. Parker isn't really her father, but is instead her uncle. Evidence indicates that William Raines is actually her biological father. Eww!  
  
Everyone boards an airplane bound for Africa in order to deliver Jarod and the scrolls to the Triumvirate. Miss Parker sneaks on as well even though her father (Mr. Parker) told her to stay behind. This causes problems because not only is Adama superstitious where Miss Parker is concerned, but her presence also throws a wrench into her father's plans to betray Adama.  
  
Raines and Lyle kill Adama and his guards as well as the pilot and co- pilot. The plan is to take the scrolls and the pretender and parachute away from the plane, thereby keeping the power base they have in controlling the Triumvirate.  
  
However, Mr. Parker reads the scrolls and promptly flips out. Evidently the power within the ancient writings is enough to drive anyone who reads them insane. He sabotages all but one parachute, which he then uses to jump out of the plane.  
  
As Mr. Parker leaps to what we all assume is his death, one of the electrical panels in the plane shorts out. The pilots are both dead, there is no landing gear, and things are looking decidedly grim for our favorite band of characters. Jarod comes to the rescue, shouting instructions to Lyle on how to fix the wiring while also piloting the damaged jet. Multi- tasking is a wonderful pretender skill.  
  
Jarod lands the jet, even without landing gear, and escapes just before the plane blows up.  
  
Back at The Centre, Raines is now in charge with Lyle tagging along like his shadow. The Triumvirate has been told that Jarod killed Adama and stole the scrolls while Mr. Parker died trying to stop him. Let me say this again because it's a small but very important piece of the story that follows. The Triumvirate has been told that Jarod killed Adama and stole the scrolls while Mr. Parker died trying to stop him.  
  
Raines challenges his children (Lyle and Parker) telling them that whomever brings Jarod back to The Centre will continue to live long and prosper under the Parker legacy.  
  
The movie ends with the requisite phone call between Jarod and Miss Parker. Jarod asks "What about us?" Parker replies, "You run, I chase. That choice was made for us a long time ago." Both are sad and weary. Cut into this scene, a few lines from the scrolls are revealed, washed up on some unknown shore.  
  
"The Centre shall rise. The chosen will be found, a boy named Jarod."  
  
And that, in a greatly condensed form, is the story of "Island of the Haunted". IOTH was, in my opinion, the better of The Pretender movies by far. There was action and angst, humor and mystery. There was a shirtless Jarod, a vulnerable Parker, and enough subtle nuances and gestures to keep fanfic alive for years to come. I highly recommend it.  
  
The story that follows is heavily reliant upon the IOTH plot. I hope you enjoy it.  
  
-  
  
End Prologue. 


	2. A New Player

Author's Note: Put disclaimer here. Don't think of it as copyright infringement. Consider this as an unpaid advertisement to increase interest in "The Pretender" while we wait for the series to come out on DVD and video.  
  
This story is chocked full of "Island of the Haunted" spoilers. As a matter of fact, if you haven't seen IOTH, you'll have no clue what is going on. As a result, I felt it necessary to include a short synopsis of the movie with the pertinent information. (See Prologue)  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
11/11/03 Part 1 - By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is  
that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our  
Darkness, that most frightens us. " -- Nelson Mandela  
  
-  
  
Miss Parker sighed and rubbed at her aching temples. It was going to be another harrowing day. Barely ten in the morning and she could already feel the migraine pulsing behind her eyes. Reaching into her desk drawer, Parker retrieved a nearly empty bottle of pain pills and swallowed two tablets with a gulp of her cold coffee.  
  
Closing her eyes, Parker leaned her head against the back of her chair as she casually crossed her long nylon clad legs. Using the palms of her hands she pressed against her closed lids, careful not to smudge her makeup as she did so. Pain was one thing. Bone wrenching weariness was another. But looking good still had to come first.  
  
For years, working at The Centre had been like skirting along the fringes of the outer rings of hell. But in the last few months, hell had spread and the surroundings had gotten much hotter.  
  
Since Mr. Parker's death three months ago, Raines had taken charge within these halls. Dark, nasty little secrets that had been skulking at Raines' heels for years had been brought closer to the surface. The unsavory aspects of several projects were now well known and accepted as standard operating procedure. It had become impossible to ignore what was going on in the depths of The Centre's sublevels.  
  
In her heart, Miss Parker knew that Raines had not been alone in creating these atrocities. The Centre's horrors had always existed but under Mr. Parker's rule, they had remained hidden for the most part. She had no doubt that the Centre's last chairman had known everything that occurred within these walls. Yet Miss Parker remained stubbornly loyal to the man she would always think of as her father.  
  
Out of spite and shear meanness, Miss Parker went out of her way to irritate and goad Raines whenever possible. The trick was to do it in such a way that he could not fault her, yet still know that she had done it on purpose. After more than half a dozen years playing mind games with a genius, Miss Parker found screwing with Raines' head to be remarkably simple.  
  
Lyle on the other hand, was a different matter. As intelligent and demented as he was handsome, Parker's twin brother possessed the frighteningly unpredictable characteristics of a madman. If Lyle hadn't been a raving lunatic, the cunningly precise way the siblings toyed with each other could have been an exhilarating challenge.  
  
Miss Parker knew better than to underestimate her brother. Regardless of how foul she imagined him to be, Parker feared that Lyle's potential for evil was far worse.  
  
Yesterday, while on a shopping trip with Broots' daughter, Debbie, Miss Parker had literally bumped into Lyle at the mall. As he chatted in a seemingly harmless manner with the two females, Lyle licked suggestively at an ice cream cone while he eyed the little girl. Although Debbie was apparently ignorant of any undercurrent, Miss Parker had quickly become very aware of the unspoken threat.  
  
It now fell to Parker to tell Broots what had happened. The frazzled computer technician deserved to know that his daughter could be in danger. Parker had nothing to indicate that her brother had ever tended toward pedophilia, but to ignore the warning bells clanging in her head would be a mistake. Miss Parker had quickly learned to listen to her inner sense when it spoke to her. This morning, her senses were nearly screaming at her.  
  
Something was going to happen.  
  
With little more than an eerie feeling of anticipation to guide her, Parker felt it best to be on guard for anything. The rest of her team needed to be prepared as well.  
  
Parker's musings were interrupted by a soft knock on her office door. With a sigh of resignation, Parker called, "Come!"  
  
Looking as rumpled and nervous as always, Broots scurried into the office with his distinctive shuffle. "G - good morning, Miss Parker," he stuttered. "Have you heard about the newest delegates sent by the Triumvirate?"  
  
Miss Parker frowned. "No, I haven't."  
  
Eyes bright with worried excitement Broots rushed to Parker's side. "Well," he said. "You know Curly, my friend in access security? He's the one who lost all his hair when the electricity surged through his computer terminal."  
  
Parker rolled her eyes dramatically and waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Get to the point, pin-head."  
  
"He told me," Broots went on. "That he's been ordered to create access badges for several Triumvirate representatives due in from Africa this afternoon." The technician glanced warily around the room before continuing. "The interesting part of it is that they are only being given level six access."  
  
Parker eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Even you have higher clearance than that," she mused. "Who are these people? And why haven't I been told about their arrival? More importantly, what is Raines trying to hide from them?"  
  
Broots shrugged.  
  
Parker quickly stood and began pacing behind her desk. "I want you to talk to your friend, Baldy," she snapped.  
  
"Curly," Broots corrected meekly.  
  
"Whatever," Parker shrugged. "Find out as much as you can about this group. Meanwhile, I will arrange an accidental meeting in the hallway when they arrive. I want to get a look at them myself." A sly grin spread across Parker's face. "After all, if Raines is plotting against them, they can't be all bad."  
  
Broots smiled. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?"  
  
"Something like that," Parker agreed.  
  
As Broots turned to leave the room, Parker called after him. "And Broots?" She waited for him to look back at her before continuing. "Make sure Debbie doesn't go anywhere alone for a while. We ran into Lyle while we were shopping yesterday. And I just didn't like it."  
  
A terrified grimace crossed Broots' face. Nodding frantically, he dashed from the room, intent on making a few phone calls regarding his daughter before he talked to Curly again.  
  
--  
  
Several hours later, Miss Parker had strategically positioned herself in the main corridor leading to The Centre's lobby. Sydney, ignorant of his participation in her plot, juggled a series of files as the two of them discussed his newest research project. In all honesty, if it had nothing to do with their missing pretender, Parker could not possibly care less. But Sydney seemed intent upon telling her all about it and the topic gave Parker a valid excuse for dallying around in the hallways.  
  
Only half listening to the psychiatrist's prattle, Parker scanned the lobby area with her eyes. It wasn't long before the visitors she was waiting for arrived.  
  
Moving with well-trained precision, a group of five people stepped through the front doors into The Centre. All were dark-skinned, hinting at their African origins. Four of them were large burly men dressed in the unmistakably stern fashion of sweepers. The fifth person, striding confidently at the center of the protective swarm of guards, was a stunningly beautiful woman.  
  
The woman's ebony skin was flawless. Her eyes were like black jewels, glittering with determination and intelligence. The slim lines of her well- toned body were accentuated by the deep saffron color of her business suit. The short skirt she wore revealed long muscular legs and Parker found herself admiring the woman's taste in clothing.  
  
Miss Parker watched surreptitiously as Raines and Lyle greeted the small party. Both men bent slightly at the waist in a small bow of welcome. Parker frowned in confusion as she noticed that neither her brother nor Raines shook the hand that the woman offered to them.  
  
As Lyle graciously led the woman and her entourage toward the elevators, Parker abruptly left Sydney's side and strode in the same direction. Parker reached the elevator doors first and punched the button to call the lift. Pasting a cool smile on her face, Parker turned and acted mildly startled to see the group approaching.  
  
Without preamble, the woman stepped forward and spoke. "Miss Parker, I presume." The woman's voice was smooth and melodic with a vaguely European accent. She held her body in a regal manner, emanating an air of superiority and control.  
  
Before Parker could respond, Raines placed himself between the two women. "I'm afraid Miss Parker's schedule prohibits our meeting with her today. Her duties are rather pressing this week."  
  
Parker's calm smile never wavered. She refused to broadcast her confusion in front of this particular audience.  
  
"But I have come to see Miss Parker specifically," the woman said in a voice edged with steel. "I was quite explicit about that point, Mr. Raines."  
  
The elevator doors opened.  
  
"It is unfortunate," Raines wheezed as he steered the woman into the elevator. "But Miss Parker simply can not be spared at this time."  
  
With the addition of the guards and Lyle, the elevator was crowded. With a wry grin and a shrug, Lyle waved his sister away. "This car's full. You'll have to take the next one, Sis."  
  
The metal doors slid shut with a whisper.  
  
Banging on the button to call another elevator, Parker reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. With a flip of her thumb, she dialed a number.  
  
"Broots," she barked into the phone. "I want to know who this woman is NOW."  
  
Raines was going to a great deal of effort to keep Parker and this strange woman apart. As a result, Parker suddenly had a deep desire to ensure a meeting between them. Ending her connection with Broots, Parker dialed another number as she stepped onto a second elevator.  
  
"Sam," she said when the other party answered. "I want you to do something for me."  
  
--  
  
It was late when Miss Parker maneuvered her car down the alley. She parked in an area marked "For employees only". With a fleeting glance at her watch, Parker stepped from her vehicle and quickly crossed the darkened pavement. As if anticipating her arrival, a large unmarked door opened, spilling a slender band of light across the shadows.  
  
Sam, holding the heavy door with one hand, stepped back to allow Miss Parker to enter.  
  
"Well?" Parker asked as she blew by.  
  
Firmly closing the door behind them, Sam replied, "You were right. Mr. Raines has people watching the lobby."  
  
"Let's do this," Parker demanded.  
  
With a nod, Sam led Miss Parker through a large corridor. They passed through a huge industrial kitchen, ignoring the handful of workers bustling about at this late hour. A hotel as large and exclusive as this one had around the clock service. Maids and bellhops scurried back and forth. A middle-aged man dressed in cook's whites stomped toward them, grumbling in Italian as he walked.  
  
Sam surreptitiously placed himself between his employer and the irate chef. The other man passed without stopping, seemingly oblivious to the newcomers. With a vague tug at Miss Parker's elbow, Sam steered her down another hall.  
  
Weaving through a maze of corridors and stairwells, the pair made their way to the upper floors. Sam paused at the wooden doors of a luxury suite and rapped softly on the oak panel. A moment later the door was opened by one of the burly guards that had arrived at The Centre earlier that day.  
  
Following the guard, Parker and Sam entered the hotel room where they found the other Triumvirate representatives patiently waiting. The woman was dressed in jade silk pants and a matching kimono-like blouse. The outfit seemed equally appropriate for either a casual diner party or a sexy bedroom encounter. The other girl's flawless attire only reminded Parker that she had been wearing the same suit for more than sixteen hours.  
  
"Miss Parker," the woman purred. "Finally we meet."  
  
Parker inclined her head in greeting, "I hope you will forgive the lateness of the hour, Madame."  
  
"There is nothing to forgive," the woman said. "I feared that Mr. Raines had forbidden any meeting between us."  
  
Parker smiled coldly. "He did," Parker said simply. "That is why am here."  
  
Delighted laughter bubbled from the other woman's throat. "I think I'm going to like you, Angel," she chortled.  
  
"My name is Miss Parker," was the icy reply.  
  
"Of course," the other woman agreed, sobering quickly. "And mine is Mercedes."  
  
"I know," Parker said. "You didn't think I would simply waltz into this in ignorance, did you?"  
  
The other woman's smile never wavered. "No," she said softly.  
  
The two women watched each other silently for a full minute until Parker finally said, "You wanted this meeting very badly, Mercedes. What do want of me?"  
  
"I've come looking for your pretender, Miss Parker." Mercedes drawled. The smile slid away from her face and her voice took on a frigid tone. "I'm going to find him. Then I'm going to kill him. I need your help to do it."  
  
"My help?" Parker asked as she struggled to hide her surprise.  
  
The other woman nodded slowly. "Know one knows him better than you do. I don't believe anyone else could locate him."  
  
Parker chewed at her lip for a moment, shook her head and said, "You've come to the wrong person, Mercedes. I can't help you."  
  
"Can't?" the other woman asked knowingly.  
  
"Won't." Parker shrugged. "As a corpse, Jarod is no good to me. The Centre wants him alive."  
  
"I want him dead," the dark woman hissed. Ice dripped from the razor sharp edges of her voice. "He's dead already. I'm just here to deliver the message."  
  
Miss Parker was greatly tempted to turn on her heel and storm out of the room. But if she were to leave now, Parker would learn nothing. This Mercedes woman was a dangerous new player in The Centre's twisted little game. Besides, Parker wasn't about to let anyone else put a bullet in that irritating son-of-a-bitch. That right belonged to her.  
  
"So there's a contract out on Wonder-Boy, is there?" Parker commented dryly.  
  
Mercedes shook her head slowly. "Not to my knowledge. But he will pay, nonetheless."  
  
"Pay for what?" Parker asked.  
  
The African woman's jaw clenched so tightly that Parker could see the muscles in her jaw twitching. "He will pay for the lives he has taken. I will exact my retribution."  
  
The woman's entire body trembled with barely restrained fury.  
  
Parker frowned as her confusion grew. She had no idea what Jarod could have done to infuriate this woman so greatly. As the seconds ticked by, Parker realized that there was no way she could learn more without revealing her lack of information. Knowledge was power. Parker's deficiency of information could only be perceived as weakness.  
  
With a sigh of resignation, Parker said, "Jarod does not take life without just cause or extreme provocation."  
  
"He murdered my husband," Mercedes hissed in a soft curse.  
  
"Jarod is no murderer," Parker defended.  
  
"And yet my husband is DEAD!" the other woman screamed loudly. Her voice immediately dropped to little more than a whisper. "My Adama is dead," she murmured with heart wrenching sadness.  
  
Parker flinched in shock. Her father's voice whispered across her memory, "Adama thinks you're bad luck."  
  
Mercedes, watching Parker's reactions carefully, stepped closer. Her coal black eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You were there, weren't you?" Mercedes demanded. "You saw that bastard kill my husband."  
  
Parker took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest casually. "I don't know what you are talking about," Parker lied.  
  
"Bullshit," the other woman snapped. In a rapid yet graceful movement, Mercedes closed the distance between the two women. Grabbing Parker's upper arm, Mercedes closed her eyes and threw back her head.  
  
For a split second, Parker stared at the other woman in disgust. But within a heartbeat, her distaste turning into surprise and fear as a strange sensation spread through her. The feeling radiated from her arm where Mercedes gripped it so firmly. Parker's eyes grew wide as a hot tingling spread through the limb like a low voltage electrical shock.  
  
As the prickling and heat intensified, Parker felt another, far deeper pull at her psyche. The room seemed to diminish and fall into shadow. There was nothing beyond Parker and this strange woman. The room grew cold and for a moment, Parker had the sensation of movement, as though she were on a plane.  
  
Wavering transparent images appeared before Parker's eyes and she saw the Triumvirate goon named Adama.  
  
"Take these three forward," the ghostly image said in a voice that sounded very far away.  
  
Panic pounded through Parker's chest. She was afraid. She could not fight these men alone. Moving as though in slow motion, Parker turned her head slightly and saw another flickering ghost image. A mirage-like Jarod sat only a few feet away. The false Jarod nodded once in reassurance.  
  
"Jarod?" Parker gasped in disbelief. The sound of her voice startled her slightly as it began to echo back to her. "Jarod? Jarod? Jarod?"  
  
The name whispered again and again in a spiraling tumble of voices that began to grow. A moment later, Miss Parker realized that her voice was not alone. Her inner sense and the voices that accompanied it were whirling through her mind like a cyclone.  
  
With a small cry Parker stumbled backwards into Sam's steadying presence. Blinking rapidly, Parker forced the room back into focus. Mercedes reached out to one of her men for support and glared balefully at Miss Parker.  
  
"Your abilities are stronger than you lead others to believe," Mercedes admitted angrily. "I can not force the memories from you." She straightened. Smoothing her blouse slightly, Mercedes seemed to regain her composure before she went on. "There is no doubt that Mr. Raines is hiding something from me. I am sure that you can reveal what I wish to know."  
  
Parker rubbed at her temple as she frowned. "What the hell did you just do to me?"  
  
Mercedes shrugged. "I have a gift," she said with a shrug. "I possess the ability to share thoughts and memories with a touch. But I believe that your gift prevents me from taking anything from you without your consent."  
  
Returning to her own haughty stance, Parker asked wryly, "Why should I cooperate with you?"  
  
"Why do you protect my husband's killer?" Mercedes asked in return.  
  
Parker stared at the other woman in silence. 'Why indeed?' Parker thought to herself. Jarod had not killed this woman's spouse. He had been chained up in the cargo area when Raines had shot Adama. In withholding information from Mercedes, Parker was defending the same wretched fiend that had killed her own mother.  
  
"I was there," Parker admitted slowly. "Jarod is not the one you want."  
  
The other woman's face fell in surprise. "But the report received by the Triumvirate," she began. Mercedes paused and Parker could see the other woman's thoughts flashing across her face. "Raines," Mercedes gasped. "He lied to us."  
  
"Oh now, there's a shocker," Miss Parker cooed dryly.  
  
Taking a step forward, Mercedes crossed her arms over her chest. "I must know the truth, Miss Parker." She said with determination.  
  
"Truth is an elusive and precious thing around here," Parker said with a wry smile. "Why should I share what little I have?"  
  
Mercedes chewed thoughtfully at her full lower lip. With a sigh of frustration, she said, "I will strike a bargain with you, Parker. In exchange for your aid in this matter, I will agree to join your faction. You will have my influence added to your own in all dealings with the Triumvirate."  
  
Parker frowned as her confusion climbed once again. "I have no influence with the Triumvirate," Parker said carefully.  
  
The other woman's brows shot up in surprise. "There are a few members who do not believe," Mercedes said. "And others who still cling to the possibility that fate can be avoided. But no one denies who you are. No one disputes your role in the prophecy."  
  
The air in the room seemed to grow thicker as Parker's heart began to pound wildly in her chest. "Prophecy?" she asked in a dangerous, low voice. "How can you know what was in the scrolls?"  
  
Mercedes frowned for a moment before bursting into stunned laughter. "You've never been told!" Mercedes exclaimed. "They've kept it a secret." The other woman sobered and eyed Parker critically. "But if you have no understanding of your role in this, how is it that you command such fear and respect from those around you?"  
  
"I earned it the hard way," Parker growled. "What secret have they kept from me?"  
  
Mercedes smiled. "That you are the deliverer, of course."  
  
Parker shook her head in confusion.  
  
With a sigh, Mercedes tried to explain. "A century ago, your great- grandfather found and read the ancient scrolls."  
  
"Yes, yes," Parker grimaced. "This part I know. In exchange for the power of the scrolls he murdered his family and came to America."  
  
Mercedes nodded. "He led the Triumvirate to believe that he had these scrolls and that they held a prophecy that could make them powerful beyond reckoning. He passed this prophecy down to his son and his grandson. They in turn shared small portions of the legend with the Triumvirate."  
  
Parker stared thoughtfully at the other girl. "He must have written down as much of the prophecy as he could remember and released bits and pieces in intervals. It would have been the only way to convince the Triumvirate that he still held the scrolls."  
  
Mercedes shrugged noncommittally. "As Adama told it to me, the prophecy claims that The Centre will rise to tremendous power. Under the guidance of the chosen one, The Centre will influence dynasties. Entire countries will be built and others will fall, under his influence."  
  
"But the chosen is not the only one foretold in the prophecies," Mercedes went on. "Fate can not be rushed. The chosen one will be brought into the center of power by the deliverer, an angel led by whispers from the dead."  
  
"Meaningless bedtime stories," Parker swallowed.  
  
"Perhaps," Mercedes said. "But Adama believed it to be true. The scrolls give the name of the chosen one. They promise that the chosen will be found and that his name is Jarod."  
  
Parker laughed in startled disbelief. "Are you trying to tell me that our lab rat is some kind of king, anointed by these farfetched stories?"  
  
"No," Mercedes said indulgently. "Not a king, he is but a guide that will bring The Centre great wealth and power."  
  
"Jarod would never willingly aid The Centre," Parker said with a frown.  
  
"Willingly or not, whomever controls Jarod, will control The Centre and all the riches that accompany it," Mercedes argued. "I had feared our fate," she admitted. "I thought our future would be determined by the whims of a killer. But I was wrong, wasn't I?" Mercedes' eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "If it was not Jarod who murdered my husband, who did?"  
  
Parker mulled over her current predicament as she stared thoughtfully at the beautiful woman.  
  
"We must trust each other in this, Parker," Mercedes said sadly. "My offer still stands. I could be an extremely helpful ally in these dangerous times."  
  
Parker laughed coldly, "Trust is even more rare that truth. Don't ask it of me."  
  
"There is a way," Mercedes said slowly. "A way for you to trust me. A way for me to trust you."  
  
"How?" Parker asked.  
  
"Share with me," Mercedes pleaded. "Allow me to see my husband's last moments through your eyes. It will create a bond between us."  
  
Parker hesitated. Normally she would have declined immediately, but something made her pause. This woman Mercedes, standing so strong and determined, seemed to have touched some deep part of Parker's soul. Parker felt drawn to her and could not explain why.  
  
"Okay," Parker said before she could stop herself. "What do I need to do?"  
  
Mercedes stepped forward, until there were only a few inches separating them. "Relax," she said. "Don't be afraid. Don't fight the memories."  
  
Parker nodded once in acceptance.  
  
As Mercedes reached out, Parker responded in kind and they clasped hands. Parker felt a small jolt as though she'd been zapped by the static electricity from a cheap carpet. Mercedes smiled serenely at her and Parker had the distinct sensation of falling. She was falling into the dark black pools of the other woman's eyes.  
  
She was falling.  
  
-  
  
End part 1 


	3. Sharing

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made. blah, blah, blah.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
11/16/03 Part2 - By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
She was falling off her bike. She called it her bike anyway. In reality it was only a tricycle and she had gotten it for her third birthday.  
  
One part of her mind knew that this was only a memory. She knew that she was standing in a hotel room decades away. But part of her was three years old, gasping in fear as one wheel of her tricycle veered off the sidewalk and into the grass. The tiny vehicle tottered, spilling her onto the ground. At her startled cry, her mother appeared, scooping her out from under the metal contraption and hugging her close.  
  
Another part of her smiled indulgently. This faction of herself, that was, yet was not her self, whispered in her mind. 'She was beautiful.'  
  
'Yes,' she thought back.  
  
It was a strange sensation. It was as though she was thinking to herself and responding in kind. 'This must be what schizophrenia feels like,' she thought with amusement.  
  
It felt safe here, snuggled into a mother's comforting embrace.  
  
The scene shifted. She was held close by another woman as they walked under a scorching African sun. This other mother hummed a soothing melody as she walked and the voice sent delightful tingles of vibration through her slender body.  
  
It was abruptly very dark. She could feel eyes watching her as she walked slowly toward the middle of the room. She hated this, being observed so closely. It made her frightened and self-conscious. Reaching the glass- enclosed box that was her destination, she curiously eyed the boy within.  
  
"You're a girl," he said with a delighted smile.  
  
"I am Miss Parker," she replied.  
  
'Jarod,' her voice whispered in her mind. 'We have known him a very long time.'  
  
'He was a friend,' she thought sadly.  
  
"Stop!" Jarod called down the dark hallway. "You're hurting her!"  
  
Together, the two minds cried out in grief as they watched Catherine Parker die in an elevator.  
  
'Momma,' her heart cried in anguish. But this time, the pain was shared with the other self who watched.  
  
The darkness vanished, replaced once again by bright sunlight over a dry savanna. She was standing on a stone stairway in front of the city courthouse. She wore the feeble rags that made up her best dress. Her mother smiled and stroked her plaited hair.  
  
"Be a good girl, Mercedes," her mother whispered.  
  
"I will Momma," she vowed. She watched innocently as her mother, coughing wretchedly, shambled away through the crowded streets.  
  
She waited. She waited for a long time. Days, weeks and months passed while she sat quietly on the steps awaiting her mother's return. The courthouse was a thriving and busy place. Powerful, wealthy men came and went from its frightening grandeur. Occasionally, one of them would give her a coin, or something to eat. Yet still she waited.  
  
She didn't notice him when he first arrived. The young man, though handsome, had been one of several bodyguards that accompanied a powerful businessman into the courthouse. It wasn't until they were leaving that the man broke away from the group and approached her.  
  
"What is your name, little one?" he asked in a voice that seemed to purr.  
  
"Mercedes," she replied meekly.  
  
"You are here every day," he said accusingly.  
  
"I'm waiting for my mother," she answered.  
  
"Have you any money, child?" he asked with a quizzical tilt of his head.  
  
"Some," was the response.  
  
"You are a beggar," he stated.  
  
This aroused both indignation and embarrassment in her and she snapped back in anger. "I am not! I earn my way by telling fortunes to those who wish it."  
  
The sharp angles of his face softened greatly as he smiled at her. "Then tell my fortune little flower."  
  
She did. He had been much impressed and dropped a coin into her palm. The next day, he returned without his employer or the other bodyguards.  
  
"Your mother is not coming back, child," he said gently as he crouched before her.  
  
She began to cry. "I have nowhere else to go," she whispered.  
  
He stood, towering over her. Holding out his hand he said, "Come with me."  
  
"I must wait for my mother," she said, shaking her head.  
  
"Listen to me, Mercedes," he commanded. "Today you are but a child, a simple waif haunting these streets. But I can see the beauty that lies within you, the woman who waits just around the corner of time." He paused. "How long will it be before your inherent loveliness becomes more sought after than your fortune-telling skills? How long before you have to sell your body to gain those few coins that keep you fed?"  
  
Silent tears tracked down her soft cheeks.  
  
He held his hand out to her again, "Come with me, Mercedes. I swear I will ask for nothing you do not willingly offer me."  
  
She looked up at him with wide dark eyes. "I don't even know who you are," she argued.  
  
"I am Adama," he smiled. "And I will protect you. We will learn more about each other in time."  
  
When she took his hand, it swallowed her own. His strength and confidence seemed to radiate through her body. He smiled at her and his reassurance wiped away her fears.  
  
They walked hand in hand, but the hot pavement beneath them was gone. They were in the dark. The hand she held was no longer the large hand of a man. Her palm was clasped tightly to that of a boy.  
  
"This way, Jarod," she whispered.  
  
"I'm not allowed on this level, Miss Parker," the boy nearly whimpered.  
  
"Don't be such a baby," she scolded him. "Even if they catch us, what could they possibly do?"  
  
She had been clueless then. She had not understood the cruelty this boy was subjected to at the time. She could not comprehend his fear. The adult part of her psyche felt a terrible pang of remorse at the torturous life this boy had led.  
  
"Please, Miss Parker," Jarod begged. "We should not be here."  
  
"Don't give up on me, Jarod," she demanded. "I need your help to find that present."  
  
Jarod swallowed. "I won't give up," he whispered.  
  
"Then you will do this for me?" she asked, pulling his hand close.  
  
The boy nodded. "Of course," he said, putting aside his fear.  
  
She smiled brilliantly at him, coaxing a grin from him in return. "You're a true friend, Jarod," she whispered. Placing a quick kiss on his cheek, she led him through the corridors. "My father's office is this way."  
  
Their adventure in the tower was only one of many secrets she shared with the lonely boy. She never really understood why Jarod lived at The Centre or what had become of his parents. Each time she had asked her father about the boy, she had been scolded. So she quickly stopped asking.  
  
The pretender was devoted to her. She knew that. He had even fewer friends than she did and he was unwaveringly loyal. But the camaraderie between them only lasted a few short years. It had been her fault that it ended.  
  
She had been stupid enough to seek Jarod out while he was working one day. In her folly and ignorance, she had wanted only to see him. The simulation unraveling in the lab that day had been singularly cruel in her limited opinion. Her young friend had been in pain and she had attempted to help him.  
  
Her interference had enraged her father. In his fury he accused her of betraying her family in favor of the pretender. Her protests only angered her father even more. Within a fortnight, she found herself packed off to a boarding school in Europe. In her misery and distress, she blamed Jarod for her exile. She'd never said goodbye to him. The two would not speak again for nearly two decades.  
  
She had been only fifteen when she'd been sent from her home.  
  
She had been fifteen when she first offered herself to her patron. In the few years after Adama rescued her from the streets of Rumpalla, his career with the Triumvirate had soared. He had been far kinder to her than he had needed to be. She would have been forever thankful for just the food and clothes that he gave her. But he used his steadily increasing income to not only provide her with food and fine clothes but also an excellent education.  
  
She learned to read. He took her with him on his many travels. She learned quickly. Adama raised her from the poverty she had always known. She knew that he had wanted only what her gift could provide yet she still worshipped his kindness.  
  
One stormy night, she came to him while he worked at his computer. She had planned the seduction carefully and wore a diaphanous gown that eagerly displayed her still blossoming figure. She was crushed when he rejected her advances.  
  
"But you've always said that I am beautiful," she had stuttered tearfully.  
  
"And that you are, my flower," Adama told her. "But you are still young. Too young for a man my age."  
  
She wiped away a tear with the sleeve of her negligee. "You're not even ten years older than me," she argued.  
  
Adama smiled indulgently. "But it is an important decade that separates us now my pet," he said. He wrapped her in a warm, protective embrace. "I have no desire to hurt you, Mercedes. And such behavior between us at this juncture would only cause you pain. But I promise you," he whispered softly as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. "When the time comes, I will be there to accept the gift you've offered me tonight. You will belong to no other, my love."  
  
Adama had thought it best then to send her away to school for a time. She had obeyed reluctantly, spending her years away in Switzerland. But Adama had come to visit often, bringing gifts in exchange for her unique insight into the minds of the guests he brought with him.  
  
Her two selves consoled one another through the memory of the loneliness in the years that followed. As she became a woman in both lives, she learned to move in a world of privilege and success. She learned to survive on her own.  
  
Memories of a hot summer in Tokyo flooded through her. With Tommy Tanaka, she explored a deeper sense of sexuality that she had ever known with any of the teenaged boys she had fumbled with in high school. She learned that her sensuous form was an object of desire that gave her power over the men around her.  
  
She flushed with excitement as they relived the night that Adama first guided her into womanhood. At nineteen, she had been with no other man. He had been the one and only lover in her life. His desire for her had been tempered by great gentleness and the patience of a saint. The way in which he worshipped her each and every time he took her to his bed, made her feel like royalty. She loved him more with each passing day.  
  
She wanted nothing more than to please him in all things. With her continued assistance, Adama's influence with the Triumvirate continued to grow. Even Mutumbo was wary of the younger man's success. But these things were important to her only because they were important to the man she desired.  
  
Adama loved her. Of this she had no doubt. As his career bloomed, so did the life that they shared together. When Adama proposed and they were married, she thought she may die from the blissful happiness that was hers.  
  
Memories shifted and began blending together more rapidly. The loneliness of one self mingled with the blinding joy of the other until both were abruptly wrapped in sorrow. The bitter grief of a dead carpenter intertwined with the premature birth of a dead child. Pain ripped through their body from complications caused by the stillborn infant as agony ripped through them from a bullet through their back.  
  
Emptiness engulfed her. Shame. She felt shame at having sacrificed a kind and innocent man to The Centre. There was shame at learning her womb was now barren and her husband would have no son.  
  
Somehow, her depression was lifted. Adama convinced her that his love for her was unconditional. His continued adoration helped to heal the wound in her soul. But her other self had no one to lean on. Her loneliness returned. Yet, with time, her grief also abated.  
  
'Not entirely true,' her other self whispered through her mind. 'He was there when you needed him.'  
  
'He always is,' she admitted ruefully.  
  
He had been on the plane when she had faced the most recent trauma in her life. He had been just as stunned as she had been upon learning about her father's ultimate lie. She'd seen him, straining to see around the group gathered in the cargo area. Chained as he was, he had been forced to watch the drama unfold from a distance.  
  
'Handcuffs,' her thoughts gasped.  
  
"Adama thinks you're bad luck," her father said angrily.  
  
"Parker!" Adama bellowed. "What is she doing here?"  
  
"She just wanted to surprise her father, that's all." She scoffed. It wasn't a total lie, she supposed. She had indeed surprised her father, though she still did not know which man owned that title.  
  
"Take these three forward," Adama demanded.  
  
She had glanced at Jarod, unsure of what action to take. He had nodded reassuringly. Bide your time, his look said to her. Wait. She didn't have to wait long. One of Adama's men had taken her sidearm and she was settling into her seat when the distinctive sound of a silenced pistol began popping around her.  
  
'Adama!' the anguished voice cried through her head as the African sank to the floor.  
  
"Tell Mr. Parker to get ready," Raines snarled at her.  
  
"Get ready for what?" she cried.  
  
"Just do it!" Lyle barked.  
  
She ran back to the cargo hold and saw Jarod sitting just as she had left him, chained to the wall.  
  
There was a blinding flash of light and fury surged through her mind like a scalding flame. The images around her abruptly vanished, Jarod and her father and the airplane were all gone. She found herself standing in the hotel suite.  
  
Parker staggered. Sam was standing at her side, steadying her as she swayed.  
  
"Miss Parker?" the bulky sweeper said with gentle concern.  
  
She blinked. Parker glanced at the dark-skinned woman. Mercedes was trembling like a leaf as one of her guards helped her to ease into a nearby chair.  
  
"Sam?" Parker stared in wonder. "How long have I been. . . were we. . . connected?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "Twenty maybe thirty seconds," he replied.  
  
"That's all?" Parker gasped. She stared in awe at the woman before her. Parker had shared a lifetime with this girl in the span of half a minute. "My god," she whispered. Mercedes was right. Parker would profit greatly by having this woman on her side.  
  
Mercedes sighed wearily. "We have much to discuss, Miss Parker. But we must both rest first." She reached out to one of the ever-present guards. "Show Miss Parker to the other room."  
  
"Yes, Mistress," the man bowed.  
  
Mercedes was being led carefully out of the room as she turned back. The two women nodded at each other in understanding before moving to separate rooms to recuperate from their strange encounter.  
  
-  
  
End part 2 


	4. Decisions

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made. blah, blah, blah.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
11/18/03 Part3 - By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
Parker woke in an unfamiliar bed as dim sunlight filtered into the room. It took a moment before Parker realized that the light was fading. What she had first assumed was sunrise, was in actuality the evening sunset.  
  
Stretching lazily, Parker allowed her gaze to wander around the room. She smiled in gentle surprise when she found Sam sleeping nearby. He was propped awkwardly in an easy chair that had been strategically positioned between the bed and the room's only door. A slightly loosened tie was the only indication of his discomfort.  
  
With a sigh, Parker gathered her resolve and tossed back the blankets. Dressed only in the lacy slip and panties that she had worn to bed, Parker ran her hands through her tangled hair and headed toward the bathroom. As she passed the dozing sweeper, Parker gave him a backhanded swat on the arm, causing Sam to jerk into wakefulness.  
  
"Did I miss anything?" Parker asked casually.  
  
Sam yawned as he glanced at his watch. "No," he replied. "There hasn't been a peep from anyone since they showed us to the room."  
  
Parker nodded. "Get us some coffee," she ordered as she closed the bathroom door behind her.  
  
After a quick shower, Parker donned a thick terrycloth robe she found and headed out of her room in search of Mercedes. In the sitting area, Sam and one of the other guards were busy setting a table with an assortment of plates.  
  
"Miss Parker," the large black man bowed respectfully. "Miss Mercedes woke a few minutes ago. She insists that you make yourself comfortable while she freshens up."  
  
Parker tucked her robe around her legs and curled up in one of the chairs at the table. As she poured coffee into a cup she turned to the guard and asked, "What is your name?"  
  
The man bowed. "I am Ishmael, my lady."  
  
"Have you worked for Mercedes long, Ishmael?" Parker asked.  
  
"The entire team has been with her for many years," he said proudly.  
  
Parker stared at the man thoughtfully for several minutes. With a shrug, Parker lifted the covers off of several plates, revealing an assortment of fruits, sliced meats and bread. Randomly forking several items onto a plate, Parker turned and handed the food to her sweeper.  
  
Sam took the plate without comment.  
  
A voice from the doorway drew everyone's attention. "Your man should not eat before you do, Miss Parker," Mercedes scolded softly. "You must observe the hierarchy of your position."  
  
Parker shrugged. "Sam is not 'my man'," she argued. "He's an employee, and a damn good one at that. He's gone hungry long enough."  
  
Mercedes smiled. "You coddle him. How can you keep your people in their place if you treat them as equals?" she asked innocently.  
  
Sam nearly choked on the dinner roll he had in his mouth. He glanced up at Parker with a wide-eyed look as close to amusement as she had ever seen from the stone faced sweeper. No one had ever accused Miss Parker of being too soft on her staff.  
  
"Watch it," Parker warned him with a smirk. To Mercedes she replied, "I manage."  
  
The other woman, dressed in a robe identical to the one Parker wore, slid gracefully into one of the other chairs and started filling a plate. "You aren't the bitch they say you are," Mercedes mused.  
  
Parker bit into a slice of cantaloupe. "No," she grinned. "I'm worse."  
  
They both laughed and began to eat their meal with a comfortable camaraderie. Sam and the other guards talked nearby in low tones. The men quickly understood that they shared identical missions. All would die to protect the specific woman who employed them. Loyalty and determination bound them together in a cautious agreement.  
  
Sam refilled his coffee cup and took the pot back to the women at the table. Without waiting for instructions to do so, Sam took the opportunity to top off Miss Parker's mug as well. With a questioning glance, he gestured to Mercedes.  
  
"Yes, please," the woman said, holding her cup out gratefully.  
  
As Sam moved closer, Mercedes turned in her chair, accidentally brushing up against the sweeper. Sam flinched as though she had burned him with a flame and he nearly dropped the coffee pot.  
  
"Easy Sam," Mercedes said gently. "You need not fear me. I can't read your mind accidentally. It requires some effort on my part."  
  
Parker frowned slightly as she whispered, "It must be very difficult to share yourself so intimately each time you use your gift."  
  
Mercedes gazed thoughtfully into her drink for a moment. "What happened between us last night was much deeper than I am accustomed to," she admitted. "Most of the time, I can only pick up on a handful of random thoughts and feelings. But I believe that your ability accentuated my own."  
  
Parker nodded reflectively. "What will you do next?" she asked. "You know that Jarod isn't the one you're after."  
  
"I've been giving that a great deal of thought," Mercedes said.  
  
"A little advice," Parker mentioned wryly. "Raines is damn hard to kill. Many have tried."  
  
"Life has little value to Mr. Raines," Mercedes said in a low hard voice. "Even his own. I thought I would go after something far more precious in his eyes."  
  
Parker raised her eyebrows questioningly.  
  
"We could take The Centre," Mercedes said simply.  
  
"Overthrow Raines?" Parker asked skeptically. "You think it's possible?"  
  
"I know it is," the dark-skinned woman replied in a voice as hard as steel. "But we would need some help. Tell me, Parker," Mercedes continued. "Would your pretender be willing to make a bargain?"  
  
Parker's eyes narrowed. "What kind of a bargain?"  
  
"We contract him to work for us for a specified length of time, four or five years perhaps," Mercedes said thoughtfully. "In exchange, we promise him an end to the pursuits, a fair salary and at the end of the term, his freedom."  
  
"Jarod was a Centre slave for thirty years," Parker sighed. "I doubt he'd be amenable to becoming and indentured servant for another five."  
  
Mercedes leaned forward excitedly. "But he would have the chance to learn more about his family. He could help eliminate the evil that The Centre has done." She grinned playfully. "And he would have the ultimate satisfaction of destroying those who have harmed him in the past."  
  
Parker gnawed gently at her lower lip. "I don't know," she murmured.  
  
"It won't do any harm to ask him," Mercedes said gently.  
  
"Jarod will want more information," Parker said with sudden determination. "We'll need to have more details before we approach him with the idea."  
  
"How will you contact him?" Mercedes asked curiously.  
  
Parker waved her hand absently. "That won't be a problem," she huffed. "Wonder-boy has some kind of radar. He always seems to know when to call."  
  
Mercedes smiled indulgently. "He has no radar, Miss Parker," she said gently. "It is your gift that beckons to him."  
  
Parker blinked at the other girl in surprise. "Whatever it is," Parker said blankly. "He'll call."  
  
He did call.  
  
Parker and Mercedes spent the next several hours discussing their plans. They had finished the coffee and switched to an excellent bottle of Riesling wine. It was nearly gone when Parker's cell phone rang just after midnight.  
  
"What?" Parker barked as usual when she answered.  
  
"You're not at home," Jarod's voice purred across an unknown number of miles.  
  
"Brilliant, Pez-head. Absolutely brilliant," she drawled sarcastically.  
  
"Out a little late tonight, aren't we Miss Parker?" Jarod teased. "Hot date?"  
  
Parker shook her head as though Jarod could see her. "If I had a date, would I be talking to you?" she asked.  
  
Jarod snickered. "I guess not."  
  
"Jarod," Parker said, suddenly serious. "We need to talk."  
  
"We are talking," was his reply.  
  
"No," Parker said emphatically. "We really need to talk."  
  
Jarod paused for a long moment. "Okay," he said slowly. Then he abruptly hung up.  
  
Parker folded her cell phone shut and tucked it into the pocket of her robe. At Mercedes' expectant glance, Parker said confidently, "Now, we wait."  
  
"How long?" the other woman asked.  
  
Parker shrugged.  
  
-  
  
It was Monday morning and Parker was watching the world slip by her window. Two full days had passed since her brief phone conversation with Jarod. She and Mercedes were still waiting to hear from him.  
  
The other woman sat next to Parker in the limousine. Sam was driving and Ishmael rode shotgun as they headed toward The Centre. They had decided to arrive at The Centre together this morning. The blatant display of combined forces would surely make Raines and Lyle very nervous.  
  
The car slowed to a crawl, irritating Parker somewhat. "Sam?" she called impatiently.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss Parker," Sam said over his shoulder. "They've closed the road. We'll have to detour."  
  
With an annoyed growl, Parker slapped the button to lower the window. She shook her head sadly at the ominous presence of orange pylons and heavy equipment. Several men in hard hats were placing large striped barrels at the roadside.  
  
"Why does it take so many morons to stand around and drink coffee all day?" she hissed.  
  
The limo came to a complete stop as Sam tried to determine where the detour was located.  
  
Placing two fingers to her lips, Miss Parker abruptly emitted a sharp whistle, drawing the attention of a tall construction worker dressed in an orange vest. As he approached the car, the large "Caution" sign he carried edged downward and he tipped his hard hat back on his head, revealing his face.  
  
Leaning casually against the edge of Parker's window, Jarod grinned rakishly into the vehicle. "It never ceases to amaze me, how truly multi- talented you are, Parker," he said wryly in response to her rude sound. "Turn left and go over one block to get around all this." Jarod added nonchalantly.  
  
Just as quickly as he had appeared, Jarod stepped back, waved them passed and was gone in the clutter of cars, construction and men.  
  
"That was the pretender," Mercedes said in a surprised voice.  
  
"Go left, Sam," Parker ordered without responding to the other woman's comment. Parker picked up the small package that had magically appeared in her lap when Jarod had stopped beside the car. He had slipped the manila envelop through the window so smoothly that Parker had barely noticed.  
  
Ripping open the package, Parker peered inside. Pulling out a strange little cell phone, Parker turned it over in her palm for a moment before slipping it into her pocket.  
  
Mercedes frowned in confusion. "I don't understand," she said.  
  
Parker shrugged. "It's probably been altered to prevent eavesdropping on the line," she explained. The next item from the envelop was a matchbook from a four star restaurant in New York. Inside the matchbook cover was a brief message in Jarod's distinctive handwriting.  
  
"9 PM. Ask for Miles," it read.  
  
"It looks like we'll be going to New York this evening," Parker said with a sigh.  
  
"He's being very cautious," Mercedes observed.  
  
With a nod Parker replied, "I've never asked for a meeting before. Suspicion would be prudent on his part." She smiled before adding, "The last time I needed to meet with him, I had to tie him up to do it."  
  
"Let's hope we can be more persuasive this time around," Mercedes purred. "I'd rather not have to kidnap the man."  
  
Parker nodded as a frown creased her brow.  
  
Mercedes grinned. "Will you be packing the rope, or should I?"  
  
-  
  
End part 3 


	5. Business

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
11/23/03 Part4 – By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
It was 9:23 P.M. Jarod was late.  
  
Parker was dressed in an impeccable and very expensive black dress. The skirt was tantalizingly short as was her preference. Her hair was piled high on her head with only a few tendrils curling onto her bare shoulders. Parker looked suitably elegant, wealthy and beautiful as was proper in so posh an establishment.  
  
Mercedes' dress was a shimmering silver with a scooped bosom and thin spaghetti straps. Her raven black hair was set in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. A simple diamond and sapphire necklace served to accentuate the flawlessness of her skin.  
  
Together the two women were absolutely stunning.  
  
In the twenty minutes since Miles had shown them to their table, they had been hit on no fewer than three times. Ishmael and his team were seething with irritation. But Mercedes' sweepers, and Sam with them, had been ordered to sit at a table on the opposite side of the room. They had been told not to interfere with the ladies, on pain of death.  
  
For the fifth time in as many minutes, Miss Parker glanced at the delicate gold watch encircling her wrist. Her left foot resumed an irritated tapping.  
  
"Damn," she sighed.  
  
Mercedes nibbled daintily at a breadstick. "Are you sure he'll show?" She asked cautiously.  
  
Parker's glare shot daggers at the other woman. "He'll show," Parker growled menacingly. "He might make me wait until dawn. But he'll show because he knows I'd kill him if he stood me up."  
  
As if on cue, the odd cell phone Jarod had given them began to ring.  
  
Snatching the phone up from the tabletop where she had placed it, Parker answered it and snarled, "You've got a lot of nerve, Jarod."  
  
"Me?" Jarod hissed angrily. "You should have known better, Parker." His voice was dripping with a barely controlled fury that startled her. "Did you think that if your dress was short enough I wouldn't see the sweepers?"  
  
"Jarod," Parker began.  
  
"No," Jarod's voice suddenly dropped in tone from angry to wounded. "I didn't think I had to tell you to come alone, Parker. I figured you'd know that much."  
  
"Don't hang up!" Parker nearly yelled in her panic. "Please, Jarod." Twisting in her chair, Parker tried frantically to locate the pretender. He could undoubtedly see her and her companion. "Please." She begged. "We just want to talk to you."  
  
Jarod snorted rudely into the phone. "I wasn't born yesterday, Miss Parker. I'm not that naïve anymore."  
  
"I swear to you Jarod, on my mother's soul, no one will hurt you. We just want to talk." Parker allowed her voice to convey the sincerity she felt.  
  
"Why do you need sweepers just to talk?" Jarod asked accusingly.  
  
The fact that the pretender had not hung up was encouraging. "They are our only protection," Parker explained.  
  
"Protection from what? Me?" Jarod laughed caustically.  
  
"Jarod, we, -" Parker sighed, closed her eyes and pulled out the one thing that would be sure to get Jarod's attention. "- I need your help." It was a despicable thing to say. She knew that Jarod would never be able to resist any show of vulnerability on her part. The simple uttering of the words ensured the pretender's interest. The fact that she was truly depending on him made the simple plea that much more powerful.  
  
When Parker opened her eyes a moment later, Jarod was standing in front of the bar several yards away. He was eyeing Parker suspiciously and still held his cell phone to his ear. Parker could see his glance flicker toward the table where Sam waited with the other men.  
  
Parker's gray eyes met Jarod's deep brown ones. "You have my word, Jarod," she vowed.  
  
Jarod seemed to waver on the edge of indecision before resolve hardened his face. "Can we eat as well? The chef makes an excellent tiramisu," Jarod purred with a sly grin.  
  
Parker smiled in return and folded the phone closed without responding. Jarod sauntered over to the table and flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ladies," he drawled icily as he inclined his head slightly.  
  
"Jarod," Parker said formally. "This is Mercedes."  
  
The other woman held her hand out in greeting and Jarod shook it automatically. At Mercedes' touch, he flinched slightly and frowned in mild confusion. He carefully pulled back his hand and absently began rubbing his fingertips against his thumb. He had undoubtedly felt something from Mercedes, though nothing of the intimacy the two women had shared in the hotel.  
  
Mercedes smiled brilliantly. "Jarod," she said, half standing. "It is so good to finally meet you in person. I feel as though I know you already."  
  
"You have me at a disadvantage, madam," Jarod said as he took a seat. "I haven't the first clue who you are." Parker noticed that Jarod had chosen the chair that would give him the best view of the sweepers sitting across the room.  
  
"She is Adama's widow," Parker said simply. "And, up until a few days ago, she was planning to kill you for murdering her husband."  
  
"I didn't kill Adama," Jarod said, directing his comment to Miss Parker.  
  
"I know that now," Mercedes said gently. "Miss Parker has been good enough to enlighten me."  
  
Jarod smirked ruefully. "Spoke up as a character witness in my defense did she?" he asked.  
  
Parker raised a hand in the air to call a waiter. "If I am your best character witness Jarod," she teased. "You are in a lot of trouble."  
  
"I know I'm in trouble," Jarod replied without hesitation. "I feel like the fly who just sat down in the spider's parlor."  
  
Mercedes laughed softy. "A sense of humor," she murmured appreciatively.  
  
"A strange, sometimes cruel sense of humor," Parker corrected. "He can be a real pain in the ass when he chooses."  
  
Jarod smiled innocently.  
  
"Then it will be far more beneficial to have him on our side, don't you agree?" Mercedes purred.  
  
"What?" Jarod gulped. But any further explanation was preempted at the moment because the waiter had arrived to take their dinner orders. Jarod, not expecting to still be around when the meal came, ordered an antipasto salad. The ladies both ordered almond chicken with steamed vegetables.  
  
Once the young man had filled all the wine glasses and left, Jarod turned to Mercedes and said, "You must have wanted this meeting, Mercedes. What do you want from me?"  
  
A mysterious grin broke out on the dark woman's face. It took Parker a moment to realize that Jarod's query had been almost identical to the one Parker made when the two women had first met.  
  
Mercedes took a sip from her goblet and asked curiously, "Why do you assume that I instigated this rendezvous?"  
  
"I've know Parker for many years," Jarod said bluntly. "We've never met for dinner before. You are the only new variable in this sick little game of ours. Ergo, you must have suggested the meeting."  
  
"Elementary, dear Watson," Parker commented snidely. She watched intently as Jarod and Mercedes studied each other.  
  
Jarod huffed in resignation, grabbed his glass and swallowed a gulp of his wine as though it was bitter medicine. He glanced quickly from one woman to the other before checking on the sweepers once again.  
  
Mercedes deliberately took another taste of her wine. Staring into the deep red liquid she said softly, "It is quite harmless. We aren't going to drug you." She gazed sadly into the pretender's eyes. "The trap you are waiting for isn't going to spring on you. It doesn't exist."  
  
"I hope you will forgive me if I don't take your assurances at face value," Jarod drawled sarcastically. "But The Centre has spent years trying to get me back. They will do anything to control me."  
  
"They control you only because you allow them too," Mercedes said, unfazed by the chill dripping from Jarod's voice.  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Jarod snapped, suddenly angry.  
  
"You are the Chosen one," Mercedes explained. "They have no power over you unless you give it to them."  
  
Jarod glared at Miss Parker. "What the hell is she talking about?" he growled.  
  
"Sucks, doesn't it?" Parker couldn't help baiting him. "It's not so easy being the one in the dark."  
  
"Parker," the pretender hissed menacingly.  
  
Parker sighed. Taunting Jarod would accomplish nothing. After all, they were trying to recruit him. "It is part of the prophecy mentioned in the scrolls." Parker explained. "Evidently my great-grandfather read them at least once because portions of the scrolls have been shared with the Triumvirate. The prophecy foretells the arrival of a guide who will lead The Centre to unheard of power."  
  
"You think I am this guide?" Jarod asked incredulously.  
  
"I know it," Mercedes said with conviction. "The scrolls say that the chosen one will be named Jarod. That he will carry a mark beneath one eye. He will be brilliant and possess the ability to become many things to many people."  
  
Mercedes paused as the waiter reappeared with their dinners. The next few minutes were spent in arranging plates on the table and preparing to eat. Jarod glared down at his food thoughtfully. When they were alone again, Jarod said, "That's a pretty broad description. How can you be so sure that the scrolls are referring to me?"  
  
"There have been other signs," Mercedes continued. "Some of the simulations you have done in the past fulfilled parts of the prophecy. Even your escape was predicted."  
  
Jarod frowned and glanced at Miss Parker in surprise. "I can't lead the way if I am no longer at The Centre," he said carefully.  
  
Mercedes smiled gently. "Once you return, The Centre's influence will grow," she said confidently.  
  
"I'll never go back there," Jarod grumbled darkly.  
  
Leaning forward in her chair, Mercedes shook her head compassionately. "You will. The scrolls promise you will. The Deliverer will draw you in."  
  
"Deliverer?" Jarod asked warily.  
  
"That would be me," Parker said with a shrug.  
  
Mercedes nodded. "The angel who walks among the whispers. Born within the line that serves The Centre, only she can bring the Chosen to face his destiny."  
  
Jarod quit trying to find an appetite. He pushed his plate away in disgust. "I won't just give in to this ridiculous bunch of superstitious crap," he said sternly. "I believe that my fate is my own."  
  
"It doesn't matter what you believe, Jarod," Parker replied quickly. "What's important is that the Triumvirate believes. Raines believes. They have spent decades training you, convincing you that they are in control. Because they want to have the power they think you will bring to The Centre."  
  
Jarod gazed thoughtfully at her. Miss Parker could see the pretender's thoughts racing. His eyes took on a far away, glazed quality as he mulled over her words. Parker sat quietly for several minutes. When Mercedes looked as though she was about to speak, Parker silenced her with a gesture.  
  
"They hurt me so that I would fear them," Jarod said slowly. "They think they can own me."  
  
"But they can't," Parker said firmly. "No one owns you, Jarod."  
  
Jarod shot an angry look first at Parker then at Mercedes. "So you want control of me instead," he hissed.  
  
Mercedes' serene smile grew wide. "Not at all. Quite the contrary, Jarod."  
  
Jarod frowned. "Tell me," he ordered. "I get the feeling I won't like it, but tell me anyway."  
  
Parker took a deep breath and made her proposal. "We want to offer you a job with a percentage based salary and a predetermined term to the commitment."  
  
"You want me to work for you?" Jarod asked incredulously.  
  
"No," Mercedes corrected. "We will be working for you."  
  
Parker sat up very straight and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her gown. "I'm offering you the Chairmanship."  
  
Jarod's mouth dropped open. "Just like that? You're giving me your father's position?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I think there may be a bit of resistance to that decision, Miss Parker. You can't expect me to just waltz in there and take over."  
  
"That's exactly what I expect," Parker stated firmly.  
  
"You've got to be crazy," Jarod gasped in surprise.  
  
Mercedes spoke. "Jarod, you don't understand the situation," she argued. "Your impressions have been solely based on the foundation of lies fed to you over the years. Mr. Parker and Dr. Raines wanted you to think that they were the ones holding all the power. But the truth is, that power belongs to you. And Raines can't do a damn thing to stop you."  
  
"They can use those close to me," Jarod growled. "Like they used my brother. If I oppose Raines, someone I care about will be harmed."  
  
"That's where we come in," Parker said in an icy voice. "It will be my job to protect you and yours until we get your position established. We've already got a very loyal team ready to join you, Jarod." Parker glanced meaningfully at the sweepers seated across the room.  
  
Jarod looked stunned and slightly pale. "What about the Triumvirate?" he asked. "Surely they'll have some say in this."  
  
"Once the Triumvirate hears about your desire to return," Mercedes said. "They will be only too glad to have you, regardless of what they need to give you to do it. As a whole, the Triumvirate really doesn't care who is running The Centre, as long as the profits continue to increase. As a matter of fact," she went on. "There are a number of those who are distinctly uncomfortable with the current unethical slant to our work. They would gladly pursue a new approach. We can get Triumvirate support and additional guards within a matter of days."  
  
"I'd rather not rely on more manpower," Jarod said thoughtfully. "A tighter, more trustworthy, group would be preferable. Bringing in additional people increases the chance of infiltration by one of Raines' goons."  
  
Parker glanced at Mercedes with a knowing smile. Jarod was plotting the possibilities already, she could tell. Jarod noticed the look exchanged between the women and quickly snarled, "I haven't agreed to anything."  
  
"But you will," Mercedes smiled broadly.  
  
"Jarod," Parker said gently. "They will never stop chasing you. You'll be running forever. But if you do this, imagine the good you could accomplish. The Pretender project could be shut down. Pakor destroyed. You could right every horrid wrong going on in that hellhole. You could find your family. And think of how annoyed Lyle will be," she added with a sly grin.  
  
Jarod's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Can I have his office?" he asked with a chuckle.  
  
"Exile him to the broom closet," Parker nodded.  
  
Jarod snickered gleefully. "Raines will have a fit," he predicted.  
  
"I'm glad to know that we all have at least one thing in common," Mercedes purred. "Our mutual hatred of William Raines."  
  
"As Chairman, exactly what would my job entail?" Jarod asked curiously.  
  
"I think that our first priority will be political in nature," Mercedes began. "We have to solidify the new infrastructure."  
  
Parker nodded in agreement. "You would need to find some way to further undermine Lyle and Raines," she said. "As long as those two are around they will be a threat."  
  
"Raines needs to be forced into early retirement," Mercedes determined coolly. "I want him to be destitute. I want him to lose everything. Can you do that, Jarod?"  
  
"He can do it," Parker said in a hard voice. "Jarod can do anything he sets his mind to."  
  
Jarod blinked in silent surprise. Parker's sharp confidence in his abilities was both touching and intimidating. He looked carefully from one woman to the other as he made a mental note to never cross either one. Raines had. And now these two exquisitely beautiful women were set to destroy the man.  
  
"This will be very dangerous at first," Jarod commented. "Until Raines and Lyle are out of the picture, we run the risk of falling victim to some prearranged accident."  
  
"Ishmael and Sam will watch our backs," Parker said. "One of Ishmael's men can watch over you, Jarod."  
  
"I can look out for myself," Jarod grumbled.  
  
"You will need your own bodyguard," Parker scolded him. "It will be expected."  
  
"Their jobs will be very difficult," Mercedes said thoughtfully. "With three of us to protect and only five of them, we are spreading our resources very thin."  
  
"What do you suggest?" Parker chided.  
  
"If we centralized our base of operations," Mercedes said. "It would tighten the focus, make it easier to defend ourselves during the early stages when we will be most vulnerable."  
  
"We could use the big house," Parker realized excitedly. "It's been abandoned since my father's death. I just didn't have the energy to do anything about it. The place is huge. We could all stay there easily. And it already has a security system."  
  
"I could tweak the defenses a bit," Jarod added. "I know where the weak areas are located. I bet if we poked around that place a bit we'd find a computer with a connection to The Centre mainframe in place."  
  
"This is starting to sound like a plan, people," Parker commented with a grin.  
  
"I'm going to regret this," Jarod mumbled as he pulled his plate toward him once again.  
  
"This is probably the dumbest thing you've ever done, Rat-boy," Parker grinned playfully.  
  
"No," Jarod shook his head. "Not quite." At Parker's questioning glance, Jarod snickered. "Remind me to tell you about my friend Argyle. He has an incredible talent for contagious stupidity."  
  
Mercedes raised her wine glass above the table. "To new partners," she toasted.  
  
"Partners," Parker responded in kind.  
  
Jarod hesitated for a moment then lifted his glass as well. "New partners," he said softly. "And old friends."  
  
Parker nodded faintly and tapped her crystal to Jarod's in a silent accord. A truce had been made.  
  
-  
  
End Part 4 


	6. The Centre

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made.you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
11/30/03 Part5 - By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
Jarod sighed and made a conscious effort not to adjust his tie again. He stared morosely out the tinted window and tried to find some semblance of calm. The roadside seemed to blur passed with alarming speed, causing Jarod to wonder if the limo driver might be exceeding the legal limit. The vehicle turned a corner and Jarod realized that they were less than ten minutes from their destination.  
  
Panic started clawing at his lungs. 'Bad idea, bad idea,' whispered insidiously through his mind. 'Stop it, NOW!' Jarod ordered himself silently. 'Breathe J-man. Breathe. In, out. In, out,' he thought. In a valiant attempt to steady his nerves, Jarod began counting any vertical item he could see out the window.  
  
Parker sat quietly in the leather seat opposite the pretender and tried not to watch him fret. On the surface, Jarod seemed relatively composed. Only the rhythmic drumming of his fingers against one thigh indicated otherwise. But Parker knew better. She could see his discomfort increasing with each passing moment.  
  
Mercedes, sitting next to Jarod on his right, placed one hand over his jittering fingers. Sensing his tension, she said gently, "Jarod." Her voice was soft and soothing. "Settle down. In order for this to work, you need to believe that it will."  
  
"Technically," Jarod said in a flat voice. "What I believe is irrelevant. All that matters is the impression that I project."  
  
"You mustn't show even the slightest trace of doubt," Mercedes said firmly. "If you hesitate, they will not accept your command." She tenderly stroked a hand down Jarod's arm and then plucked a bit of fluff from his pant leg. "You need to behave as though you belong there. Can you do that, Jarod?"  
  
"He can," Parker stated frankly. Jarod's deep brown eyes flashed nervously at her. "You can," she said more forcefully in reassurance.  
  
"They won't hurt you," Mercedes promised. "They can't."  
  
"Yes they can," Jarod said in a soft voice. "They just can't kill me."  
  
"They'll have to get through me first," Parker growled in a soft but dangerous voice.  
  
Jarod blinked at her in surprise for a moment before suddenly breaking into a huge grin. "I am delighted to have you on my side, Miss Parker. Much safer than being on your shit list."  
  
Parker smiled sweetly. "Being on the same team doesn't exclude you from my list, Pez-head."  
  
Jarod chuckled at the light jest but his laughter quickly vanished as the vehicle drew to a stop in front of the huge stone edifice of The Centre. The passengers waited for a moment while Sam and the sweeper team swarmed from the car that had parked directly in front of them.  
  
Mercedes turned toward Jarod and gently straightened his tie to her liking. "Just remember Jarod, 'That which does not kill us, makes us stronger,'" she quoted.  
  
Jarod's gaze flickered toward Parker once again. "Just call me Hercules," he murmured wryly.  
  
"Cute, Jarod," Parker smirked. "Not funny, but cute."  
  
The door opened and Omar, one of Ishmael's men, held it patiently as Mercedes stepped out of the car. Parker rose gracefully and leaned toward the exit. "Let's get this show on the road, Mr. Chairman," she said in an abruptly cold tone.  
  
Jarod took a deep breath and followed Parker onto the pavement. He climbed the stairs leading to the entrance, with the ladies only a step behind him. Sam and Ishmael took the point position while the remaining sweepers followed up the rear. As a group they moved with a fine-tuned, military precision, the result of hours worth of practice done at Jarod's insistence.  
  
The pretender's obsession with detail paid off. As the team walked through the double doors into the lobby, their movements were smooth and somewhat intimidating. They headed straight for the elevators, heedless of the stunned gasps around them.  
  
As Sam punched the button to call the elevator, Jarod turned and spotted a young man standing a few yards away. Young, thin and very fair, the man wore spectacles and was carrying a clipboard.  
  
"You," Jarod snapped at him. "What's your name?"  
  
"Scott Manning," he replied.  
  
"What's your assignment?" Jarod asked.  
  
"I'm a reports technician in accounting," Manning answered.  
  
Jarod's hard gaze studied the pale man carefully. The truth was that Jarod already had an in depth knowledge of Scott Manning. He knew where Manning worked, his security level, his associates and even his favorite foods. Jarod knew that Manning had access to expense reports and detailed vouchers and he knew that Manning was no idiot.  
  
"Today you'll work for me," Jarod commanded in a stern voice that allowed no room for defiance.  
  
Manning blinked for only a moment before answering, "Yes, Sir." Of course, there had been no doubt that Manning would comply. The thin young man was in actuality one of the dozen or more people who had been approached by Mercedes and Miss Parker the week before.  
  
In the past year Scott Manning had learned things that he had never wanted to know. Anyone who sees enough invoicing and expense reports learns, over time, to interpret some of the things that one sees. Manning had gradually become aware of a horrifying trend in the documents crossing his desk. Due to a lower security level, he was unable to find out exact details but the generalities were enough to give him nightmares.  
  
Manning, a decade older than his smooth looks implied, was plagued constantly by his conscience. As the months had passed since Mr. Parker's death, Scott had become more obsessed with the need to stop what was happening around him. Yet he had been unsure of how to proceed. Mercedes, using her gift, had learned all this about Manning as she brushed passed him in a crowded cafeteria one day.  
  
Scott Manning was not alone. There were dozens of Centre employees, Sydney and Broots among them, who were terribly unhappy with their current situation but unable to alter it. Disturbed by the environment yet afraid to break free of it, these people anguished at the evil around them. Each suffered alone not realizing how great their numbers had become. Mercedes and Parker had skillfully chosen from this group the most trustworthy, desperate employees.  
  
Jarod had carefully reviewed all the files for these people and memorized their photographs. He would know them each on sight. They had been strategically planted throughout the building so that Jarod would be sure to come into contact with them at some point during the day.  
  
"Come with us," the pretender said as the elevator doors opened. Without hesitation, Manning stepped into place behind Jarod as the team piled into the lift. The young man had accepted Jarod's authority without question. At least, that was how it seemed to the audience of other employees standing in the lobby.  
  
Throughout the day as Jarod encountered each of these pre-qualified individuals, he would demand some show of obedience. Due to Miss Parker's advance coaching, they would obey with alacrity, accepting Jarod's orders unfailingly. To those watching, it would instill the belief that Jarod's power was indisputable. Human beings tend to lean toward conformity. Once a handful of employees had joined Jarod's faction, others would be more likely to follow. The deck was already stacked in the pretender's favor.  
  
The elevator rose to the executive level of the tower. When the doors slid open, Jarod stepped out into a wide carpeted corridor leading to the chairman's office. He strode past the receptionist's desk ignoring protests of the girl sitting in the chair. Sam quickly overpowered the single guard on duty in the hallway.  
  
Jarod turned to the pale young man with the clipboard and said, "Manning, write everything down. I want to document every change we make." The pretender then began barking orders as he moved down the hall. "Ishmael, the security on this level stinks. We need additional cameras, there," Jarod pointed. "And there. I want them to transmit video and sound to a security station located in place of the receptionist's desk. I'll want a feed sent into our offices as well. We'll see anyone who comes up this corridor. No one sneaks up on us."  
  
With a glance toward the far end of the passage Jarod added, "We'll need cameras in the stairwell transmitting in the same manner." Jarod moved knowingly to the chairman's office and threw open the door. Raines wasn't there.  
  
William Raines and Mr. Lyle were in a staff meeting three floors down. The arrival of Jarod and his team had been intentionally scheduled to place them here while Raines was away. His distraught receptionist was undoubtedly on the phone with the wheezing bastard at that exact moment. Jarod estimated three to five minutes before he showed up.  
  
Jarod gazed around the office in distaste. "Gentlemen," the pretender hissed. "Clear this room. Pitch everything."  
  
The sweeper team moved in like a black cloud. Decorative items on the walls were peeled away and tossed into a heap on the floor. Folders and memos on the counter and desk were swept into a trashcan. Drawers were yanked open and emptied onto the growing pile of debris in the center of the office. Mr. Raines' computer and monitor were heaved off their stands, crashing to the floor in an impressive display of sparks.  
  
By the time Raines shuffled into the room four and a half minutes later, the office had been professionally ransacked. A mound of rubbish at Jarod's feet was all that was left of Raines' occupancy. Raines, with Lyle at his side, stood in the doorway, sputtering.  
  
Jarod ignored them both, crossed the room and opened a door in the opposite wall. He peered in quickly at what had once been Brigette's lair. "Parker, you and Mercedes will set up in this connecting office."  
  
"That's my office," Lyle growled.  
  
"Not anymore," the pretender replied in a chilling voice. Striding back across the room, Jarod blew by Lyle and Raines as if they were insects. Glaring into the hallway and back again, Jarod said, "I want the room across the hall swept as well. Get a tech crew up here. I want an isolated server with it's own firewall and internal power system. Set the system up in that office and hook it into a monitor on my desk in here."  
  
Jarod cast a withering glance at Sam. "Don't let them put the wires through a regular conduit. I want them strung across the floor where I can see them."  
  
"Of course, Sir," Sam said obligingly.  
  
"I'll need a second terminal that's connected to the Centre mainframe," Jarod went on. "Get Mr. Broots on this. I want all the arrangements completed before our one o'clock." Turning to Parker he added, "Get it done."  
  
Parker was already dialing her cell phone as she nodded her agreement.  
  
"Mercedes, you're with me," Jarod commanded. As he started to leave the room, Mr. Raines' burly black sweeper, Willie, appeared and blocked his way. Shoving Mercedes aside, Willie grabbed Jarod roughly and moved to pin the pretender's arm behind his back. In a swift counter move, Jarod slid under the larger man's shoulder and pulled away.  
  
Willie went for his gun. But before his pistol was even out of its holster there was the distinct clacking of a half dozen triggers being cocked. Willie found himself staring down the barrels of several guns. Not only Ishmael and his team but also Sam, Parker and even Mercedes were all glaring down the sights of their weapons at the startled sweeper.  
  
Jarod, the only member of his group not pointing a gun, simply reached out and took Willie's sidearm from his stunned grasp. Nonchalantly handing the nine millimeter to Mercedes, Jarod pushed past Willie. As he left the room the pretender said in an offhanded tone, "Omar would you kindly escort this man off the premises? By the way, Willie," Jarod added, turning back toward him for a moment. "You're fired."  
  
"You can't do that," Willie growled, now firmly clasped between two of Ishmael's men.  
  
Jarod smiled one of those beautiful, charming smiles. "Escort him to his car with extreme prejudice," Jarod purred. Then he turned on his heel and left with Scott Manning, Mercedes and two of her sweepers right behind him.  
  
Willie was dragged away leaving Raines and Lyle alone in the room with Miss Parker and Sam. For a moment, Raines glared mutely at the remains of his office while Parker snapped instructions into her cell phone. Parker ended the connection and slid the device into her pocket in a smooth motion. Crossing her arms over her chest she gazed blankly at her adversaries.  
  
"I'm afraid I just haven't the time to chitchat with you two Brainiacs," Parker drawled callously. "As you can see, we have a great deal of work to accomplish. And I simply can't afford to piss off our new chairman."  
  
Raines' head nearly spun around in rage, "Chairman?" he gasped. "The Triumvirate won't tolerate having him in charge."  
  
Parker grinned an icy smile that chilled the air around them. "On the contrary, " she purred. "Our friends in Africa were only too pleased to talk with Jarod." Leaning casually against the empty desk, Parker crossed her long nylon clad legs at the ankle. "Yes, indeed. They had a lovely conversation that went on for hours and hours." She smiled like a cat about to pounce on a bird. "It seems that the Triumvirate had several misconceptions that Jarod willingly helped to rectify."  
  
Lyle swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. If Mercedes had managed to get Jarod into a Triumvirate board meeting, there was no telling how much damage the pretender could have inflicted. Assuming that the genius had only provided bare facts, Raines' position was now tenuous at best. If Jarod had decided to embellish the truth to any degree, Lyle knew that they were in grave danger.  
  
Licking his lips nervously, Lyle thought frantically about his next move. He did have information, insurance so to speak, to be used in case Raines' power base should ever falter. This seemed to be just such an occasion. "I'd like to get a few things from my office," Lyle said as calmly as he could manage.  
  
Parker shrugged one shoulder uncaringly. But as Lyle began to walk toward his office, Sam stepped into his path. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lyle," the sweeper said. "But I can't allow that. This area is off limits by order of the chairman. As a matter of fact, I'm going to have to ask you both to leave this level entirely."  
  
"Don't forget who you are dealing with," Raines hissed dramatically.  
  
Sam was unfazed. "Good advice, Mr. Raines," he said. "You should do the same." Then, holding out one hand, Sam gestured toward the door and escorted the two men into the corridor.  
  
Parker didn't move as she watched Sam disappear into the hallway behind Lyle and Raines. The sweeper was gone for only a minute before he returned. "Well?" she asked him.  
  
"I put them on the elevator myself," Sam said reassuringly.  
  
Parker sighed heavily and slumped with relief. "It's working," she heaved thankfully.  
  
Sam cast her a startled look. "Did you doubt that it would?" he asked.  
  
"Frankly, yes," Parker replied straightening regally. "But don't tell Jarod I said so. This is all going as planned thus far because we caught them off guard. The element of surprise won't work for long."  
  
"It doesn't need to last long," Sam said confidently. "Just long enough."  
  
Parker smirked in amusement. "I didn't realize you were such an optimist, Sam," she chuckled. Sam simply shrugged in reply. Parker nodded in a crisp business-like manner. "Right," she said. "Let's get to work."  
  
--  
  
That afternoon, Lyle found himself being frisked like a common criminal. He'd stepped off the elevator onto the executive level and was startled by the changes that had occurred in the last couple of hours. Where Carla, his receptionist had been sitting this morning, there was now a huge desk mounted with an array of surveillance monitors. One of the sweepers from Mercedes' team was seated in front of the display.  
  
Two additional sweepers immediately shoved Lyle against a wall and began searching him. Lyle craned his neck to look at the men. These two were new. Lyle had never seen the big black men before. When they spoke to each other, it was in a language Lyle did not understand, a fact that made Lyle queasy. Evidently, these were additional sweepers assigned by the Triumvirate.  
  
After taking Lyle's gun, the guards roughly spun him to face the sweeper at the desk. This one was talking into a microphone attached to a headpiece he was wearing. "No Sir," the man was saying in his accented voice. "He is alone." He paused for moment as if listening to instructions, then spoke rapidly in the foreign tongue.  
  
One of the guards grabbed Lyle by the arm and nearly dragged him down the corridor. As they headed toward the chairman's office, Lyle glanced around at the workers scurrying about. A man in blue overalls was on his knees, fastening wires along the baseboards. Another man on a ladder was tightening screws on a camera mount near the ceiling. A technician rushed by carrying a slim monitor.  
  
In the chairman's office the rubble from this morning was gone. The desk had been replaced by a large L-shaped work area with two computers. Broots sat in front of one of the monitors, typing frantically at the keyboard. Comfortable looking furniture had been brought into the room and a large wooden cabinet was installed along one wall. Two workers were busily wiring the cabinet to hold the half-dozen surveillance monitors lined up along the floor.  
  
Jarod, Parker and Mercedes stood in a group near the new desk. Manning still hovered in the background jotting down whatever Jarod asked him to. Before Lyle could get close enough to hear any of their conversation, Jarod silenced them all with an abrupt motion of his hand.  
  
Moving with calculated precision, Jarod looked up and glared at Lyle. "What do you want?" Jarod growled.  
  
"Well," Lyle began as he yanked his arm out of the guard's grip. "I thought we should talk."  
  
Jarod cocked one eyebrow in disbelief.  
  
"Hear me out, Jarod," Lyle added quickly. "There are things I know, people and connections I have that you may find very useful. You need me Jarod. You need me to do the things you can't, the things you don't want to do."  
  
Jarod crossed his arms over his chest. "You want to do my dirty work, eh?" the pretender asked in chilly amusement. "How charitable of you."  
  
Lyle shrugged. "It's got to be done, Jarod. And you know as well as I that you haven't got the stomach for it."  
  
"I've got to give you credit, Lyle," Jarod said chuckling coldly. "You've managed to surprise me. I figured you'd wait at least a day or two before abandoning Nosferatu. Here you're bailing and headed for the opposite side in only a fraction of the time I had anticipated."  
  
"It's his talent for self preservation," Parker commented snidely. "He's covering his ass."  
  
"Mmm," Jarod grunted noncommittally.  
  
"Think of it, Jarod," Lyle argued. "If we combine our forces there's no one who can stand in our way. The Centre can be ours."  
  
Jarod's voice was icy as he said, "The Centre is mine. Always has been. It just took me a while to figure that out. There's nothing you can bring to the table to further improve my position, Lyle. You are expendable."  
  
Lyle clenched his fists and glared at Jarod's irritatingly smug smile. "So what are you going to do with me?" he asked.  
  
"Well, I could have you put out of my misery," Jarod began. "Either of these lovely ladies would be only too happy to put a bullet between your eyes." Lyle's gaze flickered worriedly from Mercedes to Parker. The darker woman smiled serenely, making Lyle wonder what thoughts were running through her head to make her seem so content.  
  
"You're nailing them both. Aren't you, Jarod?" Lyle asked cruelly. It was a feeble attempt to shock the pretender, throw him off balance and provoke a response. Lyle was desperate to regain some measure of control over this situation.  
  
Jarod simply smiled knowingly. The indignant rage Lyle had been expecting didn't come, not even from his sister. "Damn it," Lyle snarled glaring at Miss Parker in astonishment. "You let the lab-rat into your bed!"  
  
Parker laughed wryly, reached into her pocket and pulled out a single dollar bill. Calmly placing the money into Jarod's outstretched palm, Parker shook her head. "You were right, Jarod." She sighed. "His mind is in the gutter."  
  
Jarod carefully folded his prize and tucked it away. With a shrug he said, "For Lyle, everything can be broken down into three basic necessities: money, power and sex. And any combination of two can get him the third. Once you understand that about his personality, anticipating his actions becomes simple."  
  
Mercedes cocked her head curiously at Lyle. "Perhaps we could keep him around for entertainment value," she commented.  
  
Lyle felt liquid trickle across one clenched palm and he realized that his fingernails had cut into his flesh. Closing his eyes for a moment he took a deep calming breath and battled to control the anger rushing through him. It was time to face facts. These three were toying with him. They could have him killed at any moment. Holding on to his position of power at The Centre was no longer Lyle's goal. He was going to have to concentrate on staying alive.  
  
"I have something in mind for our Mr. Lyle," Jarod said in an eerie tone. "I think he can be of some use to us."  
  
Lyle blinked in surprise. When he realized that Mercedes and his sister were unfazed by Jarod's remark, Lyle began to understand how well prepared Jarod and his team were. The pretender had already discussed this with his people. Lyle's fate had already been set.  
  
"Here's the deal," Jarod said bluntly. "You cooperate fully and unquestioningly. I'll assign a new sweeper to watch over you, someone of my choosing. You may keep your security access."  
  
Lyle frowned. This was too easy. Jarod was up to something. "I expected you would want me thrown into the darkest pit you could find."  
  
"The thought had occurred to me," Jarod said in a tone as hard as granite. "But locking you up would provide you with an alibi. Then you would be worthless to me as a scapegoat. Should our little coup bring about the attentions of the legal authorities, you will be offered up as our sacrificial lamb."  
  
Lyle glanced nervously at the trio before him.  
  
Jarod shrugged. "It's your choice, Lyle. I have plenty of proof to hand over to the District Attorney. So either cooperate and go to prison when I choose to send you, or turn me down and go now. "  
  
Lyle sighed with resignation then nodded his agreement. He hung his head dejectedly and stared at the floor.  
  
"Good," Jarod exclaimed. "But I'm afraid I must make a few more provisions." Lyle's head snapped back up angrily. Jarod smiled and strolled casually to Lyle's side. Putting an arm around the other man's shoulders Jarod purred in a hushed voice, "Your extracurricular activities will cease."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lyle snapped.  
  
"I know about your collection in the woods," Jarod soothed liltingly. "I know about the panic room in your closet." Lyle felt the blood drain from his face as the pretender leaned in close and whispered softly into Lyle's ear. "I know about the shed. I know what Daddy did to us in the shed."  
  
Lyle, pale and sweating, began to tremble.  
  
"I know about the dogs," Jarod cooed in a singsong voice. "I know about the dogs, Bobby."  
  
"Stop it, Jarod," Lyle hissed.  
  
Jarod tenderly took Lyle's face in his hands. "Bowman deserves to rot in that cell for eternity for what he did to you, Bobby," Jarod said gently in a voice so filled with compassion that it caused Lyle pain. "But Jimmy Radlaw was your friend, he trusted you. You will have to pay for what you did to Jimmy. Someday you will pay."  
  
Lyle jerked away from the pretender. Shaking so badly he could barely stand, Lyle turned away, struggling against the wave of despair that had been conjured within him. To have Jarod so far inside his head, so completely aware of his greatest vulnerability, was Lyle's most ultimate defeat. Clinging to a filing cabinet for support, Lyle gasped for air like a drowning man. Shooting an angry, tearful look at the pretender, Lyle rasped, "You told her?"  
  
Jarod stood silently with his arms at his sides for a moment then shook his head. "No."  
  
"What do you want, Jarod?" Lyle asked in resignation. "I will do whatever you want."  
  
"I own you," Jarod said in a hard blunt voice.  
  
"Yes," Lyle whispered.  
  
"There will be payback involved," Jarod said simply. "You and I have unfinished business."  
  
"Yes," Lyle admitted softly.  
  
"I can torture you for days without even touching you," Jarod boasted.  
  
"So I have noticed," was Lyle's wry response.  
  
"Do we fully understand one another?" the pretender asked.  
  
"Yes," Lyle paused before adding, "Mr. Chairman." Jarod's bright answering smile was an added touch of cruelty.  
  
Sam stepped to Jarod's side, abruptly reminding Lyle that the room was full of minor employees, all of whom had just witnessed his capitulation. Shame made Lyle wince as though he'd been lashed with a whip.  
  
"Excuse me, Sir," Sam said. "But I've been informed that your one o'clock appointment has arrived in the lobby."  
  
"E.T.A.?" Jarod asked.  
  
Sam murmured into the radio headset he wore, and waited only a heartbeat for an answer. "They are in the elevator. Three minutes tops. Would you like them delayed at the security station?"  
  
"No, no." Jarod responded. "They are our guests. Treat them as such." Looking about the room Jarod added, "Let's go people, everyone out. I've got a business to run. Sam, bring me someone to keep an eye on Lyle."  
  
With a sudden scuttle of activity, the workers and technicians vanished. Lyle waited against the wall for his guard to arrive. He took the opportunity to pull himself together, and had nearly managed to achieve a semblance of calm when the office door opened and Jarod's guests arrived. Lyle was thrown completely off balance again as he recognized the men. Terror pounded through him and he became aware that his life was still in jeopardy.  
  
Jarod bowed. "Welcome, Tanaka-san," he greeted the Yakuza crime lord in the man's native tongue.  
  
Tommy Tanaka bowed in return.  
  
"Hello, Tommy," Miss Parker purred in Japanese as she stepped forward and kissed him.  
  
Tanaka smiled at her. "Parker," he murmured. "I was delighted by your invitation." His eyes turned hard as he looked toward Jarod. "But I am offended by the presence of the traitorous Mr. Lyle."  
  
Lyle, not understanding the dialect, stiffened at the mentioning of his name. He didn't have the first clue what they were saying and that frightened him.  
  
"Forgive me, Tanaka-san," Jarod apologized. "The whelp will be escorted away momentarily. Or, if you prefer, I could give him to you as a sign of friendship between us."  
  
Tanaka stiffened. "There is no friendship between us, Pretender." He snapped. "It is because of you that my father languishes in prison."  
  
"Tommy," Parker soothed. "Jarod has nothing against you. You were simply caught in the crossfire between him and my brother. Lyle besmirched Jarod's honor in using that simulation to abduct the Barrett woman. Freeing her was a matter of principle."  
  
"If nothing else," Jarod said. "The situation must have at least shown you how capable I am."  
  
Tanaka frowned thoughtfully. "Yes," he agreed. "And how dangerous you can be when double crossed."  
  
"I have no wish to do battle with the Yakuza," Jarod explained. "It would be a costly and time consuming feud for both sides. I would like to take this opportunity to assure the Yakuza that I mean them no disrespect."  
  
Tanaka raised one eyebrow questioningly. "But?" he asked.  
  
Jarod grinned wryly. "But, under my command, The Centre will be much more discriminating in its endeavors. There will be no further business dealings between us unless they are of a legitimate nature. Stay out of my affairs, and I will stay out of yours."  
  
Tanaka glanced warily from Parker to Jarod. "That much seems obvious," he said.  
  
"So if Mr. Raines should approach you, or any of your associates," Jarod began.  
  
"That skeletal dog is unworthy of us," Tanaka growled. "His pledge means even less than Lyle's."  
  
"Jarod is true to his word, Tommy," Parker said emphatically.  
  
Tanaka gazed tenderly at Miss Parker then turned to Jarod. "You have a powerful champion, Pretender," he chuckled as he ran his fingertips down Miss Parker's back. "Her trust is difficult to earn."  
  
"I know," Jarod smiled. "We have an understanding then?" he asked.  
  
"Agreed," Tanaka nodded. "There will be no interference from the Yakuza."  
  
Jarod bowed deeply as a sign of respect. "I am honored, Tanaka-san, to have one less enemy. Perhaps, one day you will consider us friends."  
  
Tanaka snickered. "Your employer has courage, Parker. And a lot of nerve."  
  
Parker hugged Tanaka's arm and laid her head on his shoulder. "You have no idea," she laughed.  
  
Kissing Parker on the forehead, Tanaka sighed. "Let me buy you lunch, Parker."  
  
"Can't," she said. "There is so much to do today. But if you are staying in town for a while, we could meet for dinner," she added seductively.  
  
"Alas, I can not," Tanaka grumbled. "I must return to Tokyo this afternoon. My wife is expecting our first child any day. I must be there when the boy is born."  
  
"Of course," Parker agreed. "We'll do it some other time."  
  
Tanaka turned to Jarod and bowed. "It has been an honor, Mr. Chairman."  
  
"The honor is mine," Jarod responded with an answering bow. "Congratulations on the impending birth of your son, Tanaka-san. May he be blessed with happiness and good health."  
  
Tommy Tanaka and his men left the room without a word of English having been spoken the entire time. As a result, Lyle could only guess at what had transpired. He had no way of knowing how innocuous the conversation had been.  
  
Jarod turned to Miss Parker and in Japanese said, "Make sure we send a really nice gift once the baby comes." She nodded in response. Jarod was logging into one of the computers on his desk, seemingly ignoring Lyle's presence, when another sweeper entered the room.  
  
"Yes?" Jarod asked as the man approached him.  
  
"I'm here for Lyle," the sweeper said.  
  
With an uncaring flutter of his hand, Jarod dismissed them both.  
  
Without a word, the guard led Lyle into the corridor and down the elevator. When the lift reached the lobby level, the doors swished open to reveal Mr. Raines standing there.  
  
"Lyle," he wheezed. Glaring suspiciously at the accompanying sweeper, Raines asked, "What more have you learned?"  
  
Lyle's derisive laughter came out like a witch's cackle. "I've learned that you have seriously underestimated your little science experiment," Lyle said. "And you don't stand a chance in Hell against him."  
  
"What do you mean?" Raines pried warily as the sweeper prodded Lyle into motion.  
  
Lyle glared angrily at the creature that had spawned him as he went passed it. "You have too many enemies, Pops. And Jarod is in cahoots with every one of them." Lyle called over his shoulder as he walked away, "The war is over and you haven't even found the first battle yet."  
  
-  
  
End Part 5 


	7. PTB

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
02/20/04 Part6 – By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
"Damn," Jarod muttered to himself. "Damn!" he spat more emphatically as he tossed a file away from him in disgust.  
  
Parker snickered, having entered the Chairman's office just in time to hear the explicative. At Jarod's poisonous glare, Parker smiled serenely. Crossing the room, she calmly sat on the corner of what had once been her father's desk and innocently gazed at the frustrated pretender.  
  
"I told you so," she said cheerily.  
  
"Yes, you did," Jarod admitted ruefully. "This military contract is rock solid."  
  
Parker nodded. "It's as tight as a virgin headed for the nunnery," she purred.  
  
Jarod sighed, "You're a damn good contract lawyer, Parker. How did you manage to get a ten year deal with the United States Army?"  
  
"I was a real over-achiever in my youth," Parker shrugged. "Daddy was suitably impressed."  
  
"Justifiably so. This is really fine work," the pretender said seriously.  
  
Parker's smiled at the genuine praise, given so easily by the man who sat before her.  
  
Jarod stretched in his chair, easing the tension that had developed during the hours he'd been bent over the papers. "I wish you'd been a bit less thorough," he said. "I don't want to be involved in any further military contracts. I wanted out of this one. As it stands, we'll have to stall any current work for these people. The last eighteen months of this agreement are going to be decidedly unproductive."  
  
Parker frowned. "There will be financial repercussions, fines and such, if we miss deadlines."  
  
"That's not a problem," Jarod said with a wave of his hand. "I won't allow The Centre to create the next new wave of chemical weapons."  
  
"We could alter our focus," Parker offered. "Delve into immunizations and treatments."  
  
Jarod drummed his fingers on his thigh as he considered the possibilities. "Switch from weapons development to defense improvements," he murmured with a nod. "I can live with that."  
  
"We would only need to stall current work for about six months," Parker said. "That will give us time to develop some defensive programs. Then we kill whatever projects we don't agree with and bring our new initiatives to the bargaining table just in time for contract negotiations."  
  
"If the army isn't interested in our new products, we'll take the work to the DHS," Jarod agreed.  
  
"My thoughts exactly," Parker said seriously. "We can't drop all ties to the military. That avenue is just too profitable."  
  
Jarod grimaced in distaste. "The Triumvirate will only support our power base if we can continue to bring in the dollars," he said wryly.  
  
"Precisely," Parker agreed. "But a defense contract is just as profitable as a weapons deal. History has proven that the Triumvirate doesn't care how we get the money,"  
  
"As long as it keeps flowing," Jarod interrupted.  
  
Parker nodded. "To be perfectly honest about it, with the world's terrorist situation being what it is today, working in defense strategies is probably going to be more lucrative anyway."  
  
Jarod chewed thoughtfully at his lip for a moment before making his decision. "Agreed. All our military involvement needs to be transitioned as soon as possible."  
  
Crossing her arms Parker commented, "We'll need to drop some personnel and hire others with different specializations. The change will need to be made subtly. Negotiations with the Pentagon could become very delicate."  
  
"It will be a major undertaking," Jarod admitted as he stood. "But you'll get it done. For the next eighteen months Parker, you are our military liaison. Add to your staff as you see fit. Any remaining projects you have dealing with Centre security I want you to turn over to Mercedes."  
  
Parker nodded perfunctorily at her boss's command. Eyeing Jarod critically she observed, "You're placing a great deal of trust in her. Centre security is our most vital area right now."  
  
Jarod began clearing the paperwork from his desk. "If I thought security was a problem, you would be managing that department," he explained. Glancing quickly at his companion Jarod asked, "I thought you and Mercedes were getting chummy. Do you think it's a mistake to rely on her?"  
  
"No," Parker said firmly. "I trust her implicitly. As much as I can trust anyone at any rate," she added with a shrug. "I can't explain it, but in those few moments that we shared our memories, something remarkable happened. More than just knowledge passed between us. I just find it surprising that you've accepted her so quickly."  
  
Returning to the task of tidying his work area, Jarod chuckled. "We've been working together for six weeks, Parker. Besides," Jarod shrugged again. "You trust her. That is good enough for me." Peering playfully at Parker he added, "And she's got nice legs. I've always been a sucker for a great pair of legs."  
  
Parker snorted in mock disgust. "They aren't all that amazing," Parker scoffed.  
  
"They are from where I'm standing," Jarod purred seductively. "Better than yours, and I thought that was a standard that couldn't be topped."  
  
Moving with a speed born from years of training, Parker grabbed an empty coffee mug from the desktop and threw it at Jarod's head. The pretender was quicker than she was, laughingly plucking the ceramic missile from the air with little effort.  
  
"I thought we had decided to stop throwing objects at each other," a soft low voice scolded from the doorway.  
  
"He was asking for it," Parker stated simply.  
  
Jarod snickered. "I was," he admitted. His eyes glittered mischievously as he watched Mercedes enter the room. "I was goading her unmercifully."  
  
The voluptuous dark-skinned woman folded her arms across her chest and frowned. "Can't you two play nicely together?" she asked, a tender grin spreading across her face.  
  
"If I don't put a bullet in him," Parker said haughtily. "I am being exceedingly charitable."  
  
Jarod nodded with false seriousness. "In six weeks, Parker hasn't shot me even once," he said with awe. "We should nominate her for sainthood."  
  
"Shut up, Jarod," Parker groused.  
  
Still chortling to himself, Jarod loosened his tie. He pulled his suit jacket from the back of the chair where he'd tossed it several hours ago. As he shrugged the jacket onto his shoulders, he glanced at Mercedes and asked, "Any luck?"  
  
The slight smile slipped from the other woman's lips. "Nothing," she said. Mr. Raines had disappeared just over a week ago. Figuring that she had the greatest desire to locate him, Jarod had placed Mercedes in charge of the search for the missing Centre employee. "Mr. Broots has tracked down every bank account Raines had, including a couple of Swiss accounts held under phony names. We had all his corporate accounts frozen a month ago when we took over, so he couldn't access those funds. None of the others have had draws on them in the past two weeks."  
  
"Any sizeable transaction before our arrival? Say, in the last month or two?" Jarod asked, abruptly all business once again.  
  
Mercedes shook her head morosely.  
  
The trio fell into a glum silence. Over the past nine days, they had repeatedly debated the possible reasons for Raines' disappearance. Parker was of the opinion that the old ghoul had gone into hiding, slipping into the massive criminal underworld to wait out the new Centre regime.  
  
Mercedes was gripped by the fear that the man had been dispatched. Raines had a great many enemies. Now that he no longer had the backing of either the Centre or the Triumvirate, he would have been an easy target for anyone who wanted to make the man disappear permanently. This possibility frustrated and angered the vengeful African woman. Mercedes had wanted Raines to suffer greatly before she killed him herself.  
  
Though he leaned toward Parker's point of view, Jarod restrained himself from making any assumptions. Raines had resurfaced too many times in the past. No body had been found, making Jarod doubtful that the man was dead. Yet there had been no sign of a struggle at the Raines' residence. It was the absence of anything unusual that made Jarod wonder. If Raines had wanted to go into hiding, he would have done everything in his power to make them believe he was dead. The fact that there was absolutely nothing to suggest it was the single most obvious clue that Raines was indeed pushing up daisies somewhere.  
  
When his stomach growled, Jarod pushed his concern aside with a mental shrug. Either Raines was dead, or he wasn't. Worrying about it served no useful purpose and the pretender refused to waste the emotional energy. Jarod decided he would simply assume that Raines would resurface someday. He vowed to always stay on guard, prepared for whatever the wheezing fiend could conjure up.  
  
Jarod frowned slightly when he looked out the window and realized it was quite dark. "No wonder I'm hungry," he exclaimed as he glanced at his watch. "It's nearly ten o'clock."  
  
"You're always hungry," Mercedes chided.  
  
"You're the genius," Parker added. "We figured you knew how to tell time."  
  
"I'm sorry ladies," Jarod apologized ruefully. "Let's round up the team and get something to eat."  
  
It didn't take long to find Ishmael and the other sweepers. They were patiently waiting just outside Jarod's office doors. Ishmael was never far from Mercedes. He clung to her like an ominous shadow. Sam functioned in the same capacity for Miss Parker. Omar and the other two sweepers from Mercedes' original team, took turns guarding Jarod and providing backup for Ishmael and Sam whenever necessary.  
  
As they made their way through the empty hallways, Jarod was once again assaulted by the strange sense of nervousness he tended to get when being escorted in this manner. Since his first meeting with this group in the restaurant, Jarod had learned to curb his anxiety to some degree. They all lived together in the Parker mansion, which had helped Jarod acclimate himself a bit better. But being surrounded by sweepers as he was now still made him edgy.  
  
Uneasiness continued to flutter in the pit of his stomach until they stepped through the Centre's front doors into the star-filled night. Sighing with relief, Jarod followed Parker down the steps toward their limousine. Mercedes smiled reassuringly at him as Jarod's stomach growled loudly again.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked softly as Jarod held the car door.  
  
Jarod nodded without comment. He knew that Mercedes was concerned for him. When they'd first met, the woman had not understood his wariness. The fear of what she and her team represented had been deeply ingrained into Jarod's psyche. Mercedes had not recognized the monumental task it had been for Jarod to simply sit at a table with the Triumvirate sweepers that she depended upon so much.  
  
Parker had known, of course. She had been the one to notice Jarod's inability to sleep at first. Indeed, for the first ten days of their accord the pretender had kept a continuous, watchful eye on his new partners. It had taken nearly three hundred hours of shear exhaustion, as well as two sedatives slipped into his food, before Jarod had finally drifted into unconsciousness with sweepers nearby.  
  
Jarod tried to hide his agitation. Though the feelings now came much less frequently, they still came none-the-less. But the pretender couldn't hide from Miss Parker. She understood Jarod far too well. Although Parker usually left Jarod to work through his phobias on his own, she did share her insights with Mercedes. The two women talked about Jarod often and he knew it. It irritated him for reasons he didn't quite understand.  
  
As the limo carried them away from the Centre, Jarod watched the two ladies. They sat beside one another in the leather seat facing him, a stunning example of beauty and class. The partition was down, allowing Jarod to see Ishmael at the steering wheel with Sam at his side. Immediately to Jarod's left was Omar. Through the windshield, Jarod watched the red taillights of the car in front of them, driven by the other two sweepers on his team.  
  
It had been a long and busy day. They were all weary so there was little talk amongst them. Despite his hunger, Jarod found himself lulled by the easy motions of the luxury vehicle and his eyelids fluttered heavily. He was beginning to enjoy moments like this. Quiet, easy minutes where he was warm and comfortable and he could take in his fill of the image of these two beautiful women.  
  
They tugged at Jarod's heart, these two royal ice maidens. Not only were they both sexy as hell, but they were also equally intelligent, smart enough to keep a pretender on his toes. Mercedes and Parker each had a strong personality as hard as steel and neither of them hesitated to argue with him if they felt the need. In addition, both women had a wounded aspect to their personas that caused Jarod's protective instincts to shift into high gear on the rare occasions when the vulnerability surfaced.  
  
To pass the time, Jarod began to compare the two ladies' physical attributes in a purely clinical manner. He smiled lazily at the glare Miss Parker shot at him across the darkened car. The pretender seldom got the chance to admire her this way without getting caught in the act. But Parker said nothing to dissuade him so Jarod continued his perusal. He was just beginning a mental debate over which woman really had the better legs when the car abruptly jerked to one side.  
  
Immediately snapping to the alert, Jarod straightened as the rear of the limo swayed and then jerked again.  
  
"What's wrong?" Jarod barked, glancing forward.  
  
Ishmael was wrenching madly at the steering wheel, his face contorting with concentration. There was a sickening thud and Jarod had the distinct sensation of gravity shifting beneath him.  
  
Tires squealed and the smell of rubber filled the air. Jarod was thrown against the door, his forehead striking the window with such force that he saw stars. Omar was pressed against him and Jarod belatedly realized that the vehicle was on its side. Metal scraped and gravel crunched as the limo flipped over and began to somersault off the road.  
  
Bodies crumpled into a mass of tangled limbs as the car rolled once, then twice. The limo landed on its roof and slid for several more yards before finally rocking to a stop. Jarod had just enough time to register a warm body pressed against his before he lost consciousness a moment later.  
  
--  
  
When Jarod came to, he was being dragged from the limo by one arm. Kurt, who'd been riding in the lead car, hauled the pretender through a shattered window. Dazed and disoriented, Jarod instinctively began to struggle against the firm grip on his wrist. Flailing wildly, he broke free and scrambled to his feet.  
  
"Easy, Mr. Jarod," Kurt reassured him. "You're hurt."  
  
His eyes were wide and frantic as Jarod backpedaled, slipped in the dew damp grass and fell to the ground with a jarring thump. Panic governed Jarod's limbs as the young man reached for him again. The pretender scrabbled away like a crab, kicking at the sweeper who followed.  
  
"Jarod! Stop!" Miss Parker's sharp cry cut through the fog of confusion. Jarod froze for a moment before blinking up at her. "Be still. You're injured," she snapped at him in irritation.  
  
"I am?" Jarod asked stupidly.  
  
"You're bleeding, sir," Kurt replied gently as he knelt in the grass at Jarod's side.  
  
"Here," Parker commanded, handing the younger man a torn strip of white silk. "Try to stop the bleeding."  
  
With the cloth in one hand, Kurt carefully took Jarod's chin in the other and began to dab at the pretender's brow. When the rag came away from his forehead, Jarod was stunned to see that it was soaked red with blood. Putting one hand to his face to survey the damage, Jarod felt moisture across his cheeks and running down his neck.  
  
"How bad?" Jarod asked in a surprisingly calm voice.  
  
Kurt shrugged. "It looks worse than it is," he called loudly enough for Miss Parker to hear. "There's a cut about two inches above your right eye. There is some swelling and that's causing the wound to split further."  
  
"There's a lot of blood," Jarod said in a detached voice.  
  
The younger man nodded. "Always is with a head wound." Holding his hand in front of Jarod's face, Kurt asked, "How many fingers do you see?"  
  
"Four," Jarod answered mechanically.  
  
"Any blurriness?" he asked.  
  
"No," was the reply.  
  
Jarod winced slightly as Kurt pressed the silk against his cut. Holding the makeshift bandage in place himself Jarod tried to stand up.  
  
"Careful, sir," Kurt scolded. "You may have a concussion."  
  
Jarod shrugged away from the younger man's attentiveness. "Is everyone okay?" Jarod called.  
  
Parker turned toward him and flinched. The grimace of concern on her face told Jarod that he must look terrible. "Maybe you should sit down," she suggested. "Kurt's right. A concussion is a real possibility, even with a skull as thick as yours."  
  
"Is anyone else hurt?" Jarod snapped. Looking around, he scanned the area as Parker began to talk. The limousine was beyond repair, resting upside down like a stranded turtle.  
  
"Ishmael is pretty banged up but he'll live," Parker said. "His shoulder is dislocated."  
  
Turning toward her, Jarod eyed Miss Parker carefully, scanning her for injuries. When he found none, he crouched beside the big man lying in the grass at his feet. Ishmael was clutching one arm against his chest and frowning with pain.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," Ishmael grimaced. "I let you down."  
  
"Nonsense," Jarod scolded sharply. "We are all damn lucky you are so good at your job. Your skill at the wheel probably saved all our lives."  
  
Sitting cross-legged beside her sweeper, a disheveled looking Mercedes cradled one hand in her lap as she nodded in agreement to Jarod's remarks.  
  
"Mercedes?" Jarod asked softly, diverting his attention from the injured man.  
  
"I've broken my wrist," she said simply.  
  
Satisfied that these two would live, Jarod stood and looked around again. "Omar!" he called. "Sam!"  
  
"Here, Mr. Jarod," the black man answered. Omar was jogging awkwardly from the undamaged car, carrying a blanket in his arms.  
  
Noticing the sweeper's limp, Jarod glanced questioningly at him.  
  
"My knee will be swollen and sore in the morning, but I'll be okay," Omar explained.  
  
"I think we'll all be sore," Jarod agreed wryly. "Get that knee checked out. Has anyone called for an ambulance?" he asked.  
  
"They are on the way," Parker nodded.  
  
"Where's Sam?" Jarod demanded.  
  
"Over here," the burly man hollered. Sam was standing in the shadows beside the ruined limousine. "You should see this, sir."  
  
As Jarod moved toward the wreckage, he pulled the bandage away from his head and inspected it ruefully. With a total disregard for the condition of his suit, Jarod dragged one arm across his face in an attempt to wipe away the mask of blood that had formed. Approaching Sam, he asked, "Are you alright?"  
  
Sam nodded, handing Jarod a clean handkerchief from his pocket without comment. Quickly folding the cotton into a compress, Jarod discarded the soiled silk and held the new dressing to his brow. Sam waited as Miss Parker joined them before holding something out in the palm of his hand.  
  
"Found this tucked against the wheel well," the sweeper said flatly. The cracked bit of plastic and wires Sam held was no bigger than a deck of cards.  
  
"Damn," Parker hissed with self-loathing. "We shouldn't all be riding in the same vehicle. We provided them with a conveniently focused target. From now on we travel separately."  
  
"Screw that shit!" Jarod spat vehemently. "What good does it do us to be in power if we still behave like frightened children? I'm in charge now. I will go where I want when I want and I'll go with whomever I damn please!"  
  
"Calm down," Parker snapped trying to rein in her own temper. "We can't afford to go off half cocked. That kind of behavior causes mistakes we can't afford."  
  
"They are the ones who've made a mistake," Jarod growled. "A costly one. They missed." Turning on his heel Jarod stormed across the grass toward the road.  
  
"Jarod, you don't even know who is responsible," Parker hollered at him as sirens became audible in the distance.  
  
"Not yet. But I will find out," the pretender snarled. "And when I do, I will make them rue the day they were born."  
  
"Jarod!" Parker called in an effort to stop him.  
  
The pretender stopped and glowered at her from the middle of the street. "We are now the powers-that-be, Miss Parker," he ground between clenched teeth. "I think it's time to drive that point home a bit more forcefully."  
  
With that Jarod turned his back on the astonished group and stomped across the asphalt, disappearing into the darkness of the opposite berm.  
  
"Jarod," Parker called futilely.  
  
"Let him go," Mercedes said softly. "He's right. This attempt on our lives can not go unpunished."  
  
Parker gazed into the night for a moment longer before turning toward Mercedes with a worried sigh.  
  
"He'll be back," Mercedes said reassuringly.  
  
Parker frowned with skepticism.  
  
"He'll be back," the dark woman repeated. "Because he is beginning to believe."  
  
"Believe what?" Parker asked.  
  
"That the Centre belongs to him."  
  
Parker stared at the confident smile on the other woman's face and tried unsuccessfully to stop the icy shiver that ran down her back.  
  
--  
  
End Part 6 


	8. Repercussions

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
02/22/04  
  
Part7 – By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
Jarod ducked into the doorway of a closed coffee shop and hid in the shadows while a man and woman strolled passed him. The couple walked hand in hand talking softly about some movie they had just seen. At one point, they were so close that Jarod was able to identify the woman's perfume as her scent wafted by. Jarod could have reached out and stroked her blonde hair but the pair drifted away without realizing they were being watched.  
  
It was late, nearly midnight. It had taken longer to get here than Jarod had intended. But caution was the key. He'd made this brief journey on foot. Rumpled and blood-spattered as he was, the pretender could not afford to be seen.  
  
The cut on Jarod's forehead had stopped bleeding but was still throbbing painfully. His twelve hundred dollar suit was ruined, caked with mud, grass stained and bloody. Jarod's shoes were equally destroyed, scraped and scratched as he ran through the night. The pretender looked, appropriately enough, as though he'd just crawled away from the scene of an accident. Jarod had no desire to be stopped by some good Samaritan passers-by or worse yet, a concerned police officer.  
  
Once the coast was clear, Jarod slipped from his hiding place and dashed across the street to the luxury apartment building on the corner. The security at the front door was easily avoided by a man of Jarod's talents and within a matter of minutes the pretender was jogging up the stairway to the seventh floor. Elevators tended to have surveillance cameras.  
  
Pressing his back against the wall, Jarod waited for a moment to catch his breath. He eased the door open and quickly peered into the hall. When he found the corridor empty, Jarod slid into the passageway without a sound. Moving with the grace and stealth of a cat, Jarod hurried passed several apartments until he reached his destination.  
  
The pretender placed one hand over the peephole in the door before rapping firmly on the polished wooden panel. At this time of night, caution would prevent anyone in their right mind from answering under these circumstances. But Jarod knew that his quarry would open up, against all better judgment. Greed, arrogance, and an over-inflated sense of superiority made the target careless, always had.  
  
Jarod didn't bother knocking again. He simply waited with his palm cupped over the eyehole. His head hung low and his eyes closed as he listened carefully to the sounds of movement on the other side of the door. The pretender's head cocked to one side as silence fell. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and Jarod knew that someone was pressed against the opposite side of the wooden plank, listening in return.  
  
With a soft click, the shiny brass knob began to turn. The door had only barely shifted on its hinges before Jarod exploded against it. As the pretender crashed into the hard oak, there was a yelp of surprise. The door banged open, striking an inner wall loudly and rebounding as Jarod stormed through the opening.  
  
"Damn predictable," Jarod hissed as he shoved a startled Lyle to the floor. Grabbing the edge of the door with one hand, Jarod slammed it closed behind him and advanced. The sound of metal scraped across the tiled floor, Lyle's gun skittering from his grasp as he fell with a thud.  
  
No sooner had the man hit the ground than Jarod struck at him. Snatching Lyle by the front of his shirt, Jarod hauled the man to his feet and slammed him against the wall. The pretender punched him hard in the stomach and when Lyle doubled over, Jarod's knee jerked up and cracked against Lyle's face.  
  
Jarod's firm grasp on Lyle's shirt prevented the man from careening backward. The pretender took the opportunity to ram his fist into Lyle's abdomen a second time. Rage seared through Jarod's body and he willingly gave it free rein, pounding into Lyle with a series of rapid jabs. A quick uppercut with his opposite hand and Jarod sent Lyle sprawling on the floor.  
  
Lyle, bleeding from his nose and a split lip, backed away as quickly as he could, shielding himself with his arms. "Wait, wait!" he yelled.  
  
"Get up," Jarod snarled. "GET UP!"  
  
Blinking in astonishment, Lyle stared up at his attacker. "Jarod?" he asked incredulously. "What happened?"  
  
In response, Jarod grabbed Lyle's shirtfront and lifted him from the floor. Pinning the other man to the wall, Jarod rammed Lyle against the plaster for emphasis as he spoke. "Did you sabotage my limo?" the pretender growled dangerously.  
  
"No!" Lyle cried.  
  
"Do you know who did?" Jarod asked, banging the back of Lyle's head against the wall with each syllable.  
  
"No!" Lyle vowed. "I swear, Jarod. I swear I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Leaning in so closely that their noses nearly touched, Jarod hissed, "Why should I believe you?"  
  
"Because it's the truth," Lyle gulped.  
  
Jarod abruptly deflated, releasing Lyle and leaning against the wall wearily. As though someone had flipped a switch, the pretender's anger seemed to vanish. "You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the ass," Jarod sighed.  
  
Dabbing tenderly at his sore nose, Lyle shrugged. "I have no reason to harm you Jarod."  
  
"But you want to," Jarod scoffed.  
  
"To be honest," Lyle said ruefully. "I don't. Not anymore."  
  
"I've had a bad night, Bobby," Jarod groaned. "Don't yank my chain. I'm just not in the mood."  
  
"Let's face it," Lyle said. "The Yakuza would prefer to see me dead. The Triumvirate thinks I'm a bumbling idiot, thanks to you and my dear sister." As he continued to talk, Lyle walked into the kitchen and grabbed a towel from the counter. Jarod followed and watched from a distance as the other man wet the towel at the sink and pressed the terrycloth to his lip. "Mr. Parker is dead and Raines has vanished, leaving me alone and out in the cold. Everyone believes that I'm more trouble than I am worth. There is only one reason nobody has put a contract out on me already."  
  
Jarod raised one eyebrow questioningly.  
  
"You want me around to play the patsy," Lyle grimaced distastefully. "I'm in reserve to be your fall guy should the need arise. Performing as your punching bag is just a bonus."  
  
"It sounds to me like you hate my guts," Jarod drawled.  
  
"Only as much as you hate mine," Lyle smiled evilly.  
  
"You'd like me dead," Jarod eyed the other man critically. "You rigged the car didn't you?"  
  
"No, Jarod," Lyle stated simply. "I didn't." Tossing the towel aside angrily Lyle hissed, "No one is going to ally with me against you and your bitches. All I can do is try to stay on your good side long enough to regain some credibility."  
  
Jarod crossed his arms stubbornly. "I won't let you go back to your old games, Lyle," he said.  
  
"You can't watch me forever," Lyle said confidently. "I'll find a way back to the top. I always find a way."  
  
The two men stared grimly at each other, sizing each other up like dogs before a fight.  
  
With a sudden sigh Lyle asked, "Do you want to clean up? You look like hell." Not waiting for a response, Lyle pulled open a drawer and retrieved a clean dishtowel. Tossing the item across the room, Lyle stepped aside and gestured Jarod toward the sink.  
  
Jarod eyed Lyle warily as he stepped toward the stainless steel basin. As he turned on the tap, the pretender glanced up and caught his reflection in the shiny surface of a metal wok hanging on the wall. Jarod winced.  
  
Lyle's comment had been right on the mark, he looked terrible. The lump on Jarod's forehead was a garish purple in color and split down the center by the jagged, inch-long cut. Blood had begun to seep slowly from the wound again, a result no doubt of the pretender's exertions. Thick red ooze had been smeared across Jarod's face and dried on his cheeks. His wide dark eyes seemed to peer out of a mask of blood.  
  
Jarod bent and stuck his head under the cold running water with a sigh.  
  
"Did anyone get hurt?" Lyle asked almost casually.  
  
"Not badly," the pretender said calmly. "Do you care?"  
  
"Of course," Lyle purred.  
  
Jarod pulled away from the faucet and splashed a few handfuls of water over his face, washing away the last of the blood. "You are a lying bastard," Jarod commented as he dried his hair on the towel Lyle had given him.  
  
"All part of my charm," the other man grinned.  
  
The pretender eyed Lyle intensely for nearly a minute. Just as the other man was beginning to squirm, Jarod spoke. "You once offered me your services, Lyle. You said that you could go places and do things that I can't."  
  
"Or won't," Lyle agreed.  
  
Jarod tossed the towel aside carelessly and shot Lyle a hard glare. "Find out who tried to kill us today," he demanded. "I don't care how you do it but do it quickly."  
  
Lyle crossed his arms and grinned. "And what will I get for my trouble?" he asked.  
  
The pretender flashed across the room until he stood toe to toe with his rival. "One less beating," Jarod snarled. "One more day under my protection. Do we understand one another?"  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Lyle nodded.  
  
Turning on his heel Jarod stormed toward the door. "And Lyle," he called back over his shoulder. "I want irrefutable proof, preferably pictures or a taped confession. Anything less will lack plausibility coming from you."  
  
"Yes, sir," Lyle whispered to the now empty apartment. As quickly and quietly as he had come, the pretender had vanished, leaving Lyle to tend to his new bruises.  
  
--  
  
Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the windows when Miss Parker made her way downstairs. It had been a hell of a night. No one had slept well. Aches and pains caused by the accident had prevented it. Ishmael, the most seriously injured in their group, had been given codeine covered Tylenol before being released from the emergency room. The rest of them had been forced to make due with over-the-counter medications.  
  
Parker had been lucky. She had walked away from the accident with barely a scratch. Though her body had been a little stiff this morning, it had been nothing a hot shower couldn't wash away. Miss Parker's restlessness had little to do with physical pain. Her few hours in bed had been spent tossing with concern over the missing pretender.  
  
Wearing only blue jeans and an old sweater Parker padded through the big house toward the kitchen. Rounding the corner of the livingroom, she could see light filtering from the crack beneath the kitchen door. The distinct aroma of fresh coffee grew stronger as Parker approached.  
  
When Parker stepped through the swinging door, she found Jarod sitting at the table, staring into his coffee mug. The pretender was dressed in black trousers and a cotton t-shirt. It was one of those generic white tank shirts that he liked so much. Parker wondered briefly if Jarod was aware how the thin material accentuated his firm muscled curves.  
  
Parker strolled passed Jarod wordlessly. She nonchalantly went about the task of fixing herself a cup of coffee. Eyeing the pretender cautiously as she took her first sips, Parker noticed that the hair at Jarod's nape was still damp and curling haphazardly. He'd evidently showered recently. The cut on Jarod's forehead had been tended. Adhesive tape covered most of the cut but Parker could see a butterfly bandage underneath, holding the split flesh together.  
  
Taking her mug, Parker sat at the table in the chair facing Jarod's. They sat in silence for several long minutes. Parker studied Jarod closely and though many would have squirmed uncomfortably under her piercing gaze, the pretender barely seemed to notice her.  
  
"Have you slept?" Parker asked finally.  
  
Jarod shook his head once but said nothing.  
  
As Parker drained the last of the liquid from her cup, she noticed the red, swollen abrasions on Jarod's hand. "Is it broken?" she asked simply.  
  
Jarod glanced in the direction Parker indicated and frowned. Wincing slightly as he did so, Jarod alternately flexed his fingers and then made a fist. When the pretender's hand clenched, the marks took on a recognizable pattern. Only his knuckles had been bruised.  
  
Parker shook her head. "You didn't hurt your hand in the accident," she said sternly.  
  
"No," Jarod replied in a voice little more than a whisper.  
  
"You were in a fight," Parker stated knowingly.  
  
Jarod lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "It wasn't much of one," he said.  
  
Parker stood and refilled her cup from the carafe. She returned to her seat and had taken several more sips before Jarod spoke again.  
  
"Have you ever lost your temper Miss Parker?" Jarod asked quietly.  
  
Placing her mug carefully on the tabletop, Parker tried to get a good look at Jarod's downcast eyes. "Why, did you lose yours last night?" she queried softly.  
  
Jarod swallowed hard. "It always frightens me when it happens. I can feel the rage taking over," dark watery eyes lifted to meet Parker's gaze. "But I just can't seem to care. It's as though all the darkness and pain inside me is rushing to get out all at once. A black cloud of hostility just vomits out of me and at that moment, I am perfectly capable of murder."  
  
Jarod gazed at a vacant spot somewhere to Parker's left. "It's happened before," he whispered. "I stumbled across a kidnapping once and managed to locate the missing boy. I very nearly killed his abductor. I can't explain what stopped me." Jarod rubbed one hand over his face wearily. "It's usually a kidnapping that sets me off. I was working with the FBI when we caught a man who'd killed most of the boys he had stolen. I think I would have beaten him to death if one of the other officers hadn't dragged me away."  
  
"Jarod," Parker said as calmly as she could. "Did you kill someone last night?"  
  
Jarod blinked mildly at her candor. "No," he shook his head. "But I wanted to."  
  
Parker heaved a silent sigh of relief.  
  
"If Lyle had tried to fight back," Jarod commented mildly. "I may have simply snapped his wretched neck."  
  
"Lyle?" Parker's eyebrows rose dramatically. "You went after my brother? Did he have something to do with the accident?"  
  
"No," Jarod shook his head.  
  
"Are you sure?" Parker frowned.  
  
"Yes," the pretender replied. "Lyle is in a very delicate position at the moment. He doesn't like having us in power but he can't afford to let anyone else oust us. We seem the be the more acceptable risk for him to deal with at the moment."  
  
Parker pondered that for a few minutes. After a long pause she asked, "If Lyle wasn't responsible, then who was?"  
  
Jarod shrugged.  
  
"It won't be easy finding out," Parker sighed heavily.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Jarod said simply. "Lyle will uncover our saboteur."  
  
Eyebrows rising once again, Parker shook her head in confusion. "You've put Lyle on this?"  
  
"Why not?" Jarod asked in a hard voice. "He'll be able to snoop around amongst our enemies. Everyone knows that there is no love lost between us. Those who hate me will be much more likely to confide in Lyle than they will in Sam or Kurt."  
  
"Has it occurred to you that this will give my brother the opportunity to network with the very people who want you gone?" Parker said pointedly. "You're putting Lyle in a position where he can begin plotting against us."  
  
Jarod shoved his mug away in disgust. "Lyle has been scheming from the start. Don't think for one minute that he isn't doing his best to skulk his way back into the Chairman's office."  
  
"Then why help him do it?" Parker cried in exasperation.  
  
"Because Lyle can get the job done," Jarod answered icily. "He'll do his best to get into my good graces for the time being. I'm simply using that to my advantage for as long as it lasts."  
  
"I hope you know what you're doing," Parker sighed.  
  
"I always do," Jarod answered ruefully, his voice tainted with self- loathing.  
  
"You say that as if it was a bad thing," Mercedes' voice chided from the doorway. As she headed toward the coffee pot, she asked brightly, "How are you feeling this morning?"  
  
Jarod shrugged noncommittally.  
  
Taking her cup, Mercedes stepped to Jarod's side and gently feathered her fingertips across his bandaged brow. "Does it hurt?" she asked.  
  
Jarod's eyes fluttered closed. With a long sigh, he leaned into the dark woman's touch as though seeking human contact. "A little," he admitted.  
  
Bending gracefully, Mercedes brushed back Jarod's bangs and placed a kiss on the pretender's forehead just above the adhesive. "There's a kiss to make it better," she purred softly.  
  
Jarod smiled sadly in return. Placing one hand on her hip, Jarod held Mercedes in place as he looked up at her. Though the pretender did not pull her closer, the soft touch was enough to keep Mercedes within his personal space.  
  
Parker watched the scene with trepidation. It was quite obvious to her that Jarod's gruff attitude was a thin veil. He was gazing up at Mercedes with a look of such desperation. It was a look of deep sadness that Parker had seen on his face before. Without realizing it, the other woman was giving Jarod exactly what he craved, human contact.  
  
Unaware of the pretender's inner turmoil, Mercedes smiled brightly before stepping from Jarod's side to sit in one of the empty chairs. "Have you told him about our plans?" she asked Miss Parker.  
  
"Not yet," Parker replied.  
  
Jarod frowned. "What plans?" he asked forebodingly.  
  
"We've decided not to go into The Centre today," Parker stated as she straightened regally in her chair. "We've all been working nonstop for more than a month. Our team has earned a day off."  
  
Jarod eyed both women critically. "You didn't feel it was necessary to consult with me on this?"  
  
Parker shrugged.  
  
"Don't be so uptight, Jarod," Mercedes snipped. "Its Sunday, a day of rest. We are going to have a brunch and read the newspaper. Miss Parker has invited Sydney to spend the day with us."  
  
Jarod's suspicious glare swung from one woman to the other.  
  
Parker sighed heavily. "I thought we could all benefit from a little time with our shrink," she said heavily. "Besides, Syd whips up a damn good omelet."  
  
"I didn't know he could cook," Jarod said slowly.  
  
"He's no Julia Child," Parker commented. "But he can whisk an egg with the best of them."  
  
"Julia Child?" Jarod asked, suddenly curious.  
  
Parker rolled her eyes. "I'll explain later," she said as the doorbell chimed through the house. "That will be the delivery boy from Ninni's market."  
  
"I hope he brought croissants," Jarod murmured.  
  
"Do I look stupid?" she asked rhetorically. "Why else would I pay to get Ninni's out here on a Sunday morning?"  
  
Jarod grinned, brightening the room with his abrupt enthusiasm. "Great," he said as he stood and followed Parker to the front door. "Let's eat."  
  
The pretender's distress seemed to vanish as he bounded down the hallway like a boy. Parker smiled ruefully. She only wished it could be that easy. Jarod's demons were beginning to bubble to the surface, and Parker knew she would not be able to fend them off with treats for much longer.  
  
--  
  
"Queen's knight to queen's bishop four," Jarod said. The pretender was lying on the couch in the den, tossing a pillow in the air as though it was a ball. Sydney sat in an easy chair several feet away where he leaned thoughtfully over a chessboard. The pieces were scattered around on the white and black tiles, a testament to the fact that the game had been in progress for some time.  
  
After contemplating the game for several minutes, Sydney moved a black, castle shaped piece. "Queen's rook to queen's rook six," the older man stated. In an attempt to even the odds during the game, Jarod was playing without looking at the board. Even so, the number of black pieces in play had rapidly dwindled.  
  
"Knight's pawn to pawn five," Jarod intoned. Halting the movement of his makeshift toy, Jarod craned his neck to glance over at the elder man. "I'll have you in checkmate within three moves Sydney," he said simply.  
  
"Thank you for the warning, Jarod," Sydney replied.  
  
The pretender shrugged and turned back to the twirling pillow. Studying the game in front of him, Sydney smiled affectionately. Jarod was indeed threatening Sydney's king and there was little the psychiatrist could do to prevent the loss. Leaning back in resignation Sydney laced his fingers and gazed at the younger man.  
  
Jarod's long frame stretched across the length of the couch. The pretender seemed more relaxed than he had all day. Since his arrival this morning, Sydney had seen Jarod flit through a wide range of emotions. Joking laughter, brittle anger and distant withdrawal had all been part of Jarod's disposition during the long afternoon.  
  
Sydney had found the opportunity to talk one on one with each of the other members of the team. Though all were a bit unnerved by the attempt on their lives, they seemed to accept the incident as an inevitable part of the job they were trying to accomplish. Ishmael had felt a greater responsibility at first, but after discussing the situation, that guilt had begun to fade.  
  
Jarod, however, had been particularly tightlipped about last night's fiasco. Subtle prying on Sydney's part had resulted in no response from the younger man. Watching the pretender closely, Sydney noted the ease with which the tasseled pillow flipped through the air. Jarod moved with such graceful nonchalance that Sydney abruptly realized it was a performance.  
  
Throwing caution to the wind, Sydney spoke, "Miss Parker is concerned."  
  
Jarod blinked for a moment at the sudden shift in their discussion. "Parker worries too much," he said with half a shrug.  
  
"I understand that you and Lyle had a bit of a run in," Sydney pressed.  
  
"She has a big mouth too," Jarod grumbled.  
  
Sydney tilted his head curiously at his former protégé. "Why form an alliance with Lyle?" he asked.  
  
"Parker knows my reasons," Jarod stated gruffly. The pillow continued its whirling pattern through the air.  
  
"Would you like to talk about your temper?" Sydney asked relentlessly.  
  
The pillow abruptly stopped and Jarod sighed heavily. "You're not going to let this go are you?" he asked wearily.  
  
"Do you really want me to?" Sydney replied gently.  
  
Jarod sat up and glared at the older man. "Don't do that, Sydney," he snapped angrily. "Don't talk to me like I'm one of your patients. I don't need you to be my shrink."  
  
"What do you need?" Sydney asked.  
  
With an irritated huff, Jarod stood and paced to the window. Pushing the curtain to one side, the pretender peered into the fading light as the sun set in the distance. "I don't need anything," he said in a soft but firm voice.  
  
Sydney eyed Jarod's rigid stance. "Then what do you want?"  
  
Jarod leaned his forehead against the cool pane of glass. He sighed, but said nothing.  
  
"What do you want, Jarod?" Sydney asked again.  
  
Jarod swallowed. "I want to know that I'm doing the right thing," he said in a voice so soft that Sydney could barely hear it. "I want to know that I can be AT the Centre without becoming part of it." The pretender spun on his heel and glared at the older man with dark watery eyes. "I want someone to tell me that bad men made the Centre a bad place."  
  
"Of course they did," Sydney frowned with confusion.  
  
Jarod stepped forward tentatively. "But what if Mr. Parker was once a good person. Catherine Parker must have seen some good in him or she'd never have married him." Jarod licked his lips nervously. "Raines was a doctor once. The two of you were friends years ago."  
  
"I don't follow you," Sydney said warily.  
  
"What if," Jarod's voice trembled. "It wasn't bad men who built The Centre, but instead it's the Centre that changed them?" The pretender glanced away, struggling to rein in the distress that washed across his features. "I'm afraid, Sydney. I'm afraid of losing myself in this pretend, afraid of who I may become."  
  
Standing quickly, the older man crossed the room and stood before the trembling pretender. "Jarod," Sydney urged sadly. "You aren't going to lose yourself. You know who you are, you always have. That is what has kept you sane all these years." Sydney placed one hand on Jarod's shoulder reassuringly. "You are a good man and the Centre isn't going to change you into something you are not."  
  
Jarod gazed tearfully at his aging mentor. "You weren't there Sydney," he whispered. "You didn't see me beating on Lyle. I could easily have killed him."  
  
Sydney placed his other hand around the back of Jarod's neck forcing the younger man to make eye contact. "You could have, but you didn't," Sydney said confidently. "We all get angry, Jarod. We instinctively lash out in self-preservation, especially when we are afraid. And something tells me you were badly frightened by that accident."  
  
Jarod nodded silently.  
  
"They are becoming important to you aren't they?" Sydney asked in mild amusement.  
  
The pretender nodded again. "Six months ago, if anyone had told me I'd be living with the ice queen and a team of sweepers," Jarod sniffed. "I'd have sworn that heavy sedation would need to be involved."  
  
Sydney cocked one eyebrow wryly. "Sedation for you? Or for Miss Parker?" he asked with a chuckle.  
  
"Probably both," Jarod replied.  
  
The two men eyed each other in silence for several heartbeats then abruptly burst into laughter.  
  
Impulsively wrapping the pretender in a warm embrace, Sydney grinned against the taller man's shoulder. "You're going to be okay, Jarod," he promised. "Once you understand what's happening, you'll be fine."  
  
Hugging the older man close, Jarod asked, "What is it Sydney? What do I need to understand?"  
  
"This isn't a pretend, Jarod," Sydney smiled affectionately. "This is you. This is your life and you alone control it now."  
  
Jarod sighed forlornly, "I don't want to be alone anymore."  
  
Sydney pulled back so that he could look into Jarod's dark eyes. "That choice is yours as well you know. You are only alone because you permit it."  
  
Jarod nodded thoughtfully. Snuggling back into Sydney's embrace, the pretender sighed with contentment.  
  
"Feeling better?" Sydney asked rubbing soothing circles on younger man's back.  
  
"I'm starting to, Sydney," Jarod replied. "I'm starting to."  
  
--  
  
End part 7 


	9. Comfort

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
03/04/04  
  
Part8 – By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
Jarod bolted up in bed and listened to the darkness around him. Panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the pretender cocked his head in an attempt to focus. A soft sound had yanked Jarod from his nightmare but he wasn't sure if the noise had been real or a strange tendril from the dream.  
  
A flicker of light blinked at the edges of Jarod's vision making his head snap around. The flash was so brief, so quick, that for a moment, Jarod doubted that it had occurred. But a faint rumble echoing through the open window reinforced what the pretender had seen.  
  
Slipping from his bed, Jarod went to the window and gazed into the pitch- black night. Dressed only in a pair of cotton pajama pants, Jarod crossed his arms over his bare chest and shivered as the early autumn air blew passed his damp flesh. The smell of rain hung heavily on the air and as Jarod stood there, another flash of lightning blinked on the horizon.  
  
Jarod flinched when a gentle click sounded in the hallway. Senses alert, the pretender turned slowly and tensed into a half crouch as very faint footsteps came down the corridor. A moment later, Jarod relaxed as he recognized the wanderer's gait. He frowned in the dark as Miss Parker passed his closed bedroom door as gracefully and quietly as a wraith.  
  
For the second night in a row, Miss Parker was having trouble sleeping. Jarod pondered his options for several long minutes. When he had tried to help last evening, Parker had rewarded him with a snarl and a scathing glare. A pain-in-the-ass pretender had been the last thing she'd wanted to deal with at the time.  
  
Not that Jarod could blame her for being a bit touchy. He was having some trouble himself. Jarod had never been a heavy sleeper but over the past few days, his nerves had been strung even tighter than normal. After all, it isn't every day that the devil up and dies on you.  
  
It had taken Lyle just over one week to unmask the would-be assassin. True to his word, Lyle had worn a wire that allowed him to record his conversations with the killer. The tape had been the proof Jarod had demanded. There was no doubt that Cox had been the one to tamper with the limousine.  
  
Cox had been far more ambitious than anyone had guessed. He intended to wipe out the Parker line, leaving an open path for him to the chairmanship. In his arrogance, Cox had willingly revealed everything to the sniveling Lyle. The doctor had already killed Raines and hidden his body in some obscure corner on the lower most levels of the Centre. He had even attempted to locate the little Parker boy in order to do away with the child. Thankfully, the toddler was safe, having been placed in foster care with a loving couple Jarod had found.  
  
It had all been recorded perfectly on the tape, Cox's disdain for the Parker family, his involvement in Raines' death, and the admission that Lyle would be next. The cassette ended with the distinct sound of a silenced pistol and the heavy thud of a dropping body as Lyle dealt with the misguided doctor. That grim reaper would never haunt them again.  
  
The violent end of Dr. Cox was not what kept Jarod on edge this night. Upon hearing the doctor's final confession, Jarod and his team had conducted a detailed sweep of the Centre's sub-levels. Starting at SL-27 and working their way up, the group had begun an eerily disturbing search for the missing Raines.  
  
Parker had been the one who found him though Jarod had only been a few steps behind her. Parker's scream of fright had chased the pretender through his dreams ever since. Raines had been tucked into a steel locker in an old and dusty section of SL-24.  
  
The corpse had been preserved. Not just embalmed, the skin had been carefully treated and the organs removed to deter decomposition. Raines' eyes glittered bright blue with a sparkle that had never existed when the man had been alive. It had taken Jarod several moments to realize that the twinkling orbs were made of glass.  
  
Sitting on a small stool, the body resembled some grotesque marionette waiting in its cabinet for the puppeteer to return. It was this image that tormented Jarod. In the pretender's nightmares, Raines would flop awkwardly out of the locker. His limbs would jerk horribly, connected to long cords that disappeared in the ceiling. The monster-puppet would twitch and shudder toward Jarod, grinning maniacally.  
  
"Your turn, Jarod," the dead, dream-Raines would hiss. "Your turn to pull the strings. We all get a turn."  
  
"No," Jarod would whisper.  
  
"But you are the chairman," the advancing creature always replied. "You are the puppet-master now."  
  
Lightning flashed brightly in the room, wrenching Jarod from his brooding thoughts. Ignoring the goose bumps that crawled across his flesh, Jarod shook his head as if he could toss off the memory of his dream. Finally coming to a decision, the pretender moved toward the door. Parker's foul mood was far less intimidating than the frightening images that waited for him in slumber. Jarod didn't want to be alone in the dark anymore.  
  
Slipping into the hallway, Jarod tapped the door slightly as it swung behind him, preventing the latch from making the same clicking noise that had alerted him to Parker's activity. He glided down the corridor easily, his eyes well adjusted to the dark. The pretender's bare feet made no sound as he descended the long curving staircase to the first floor.  
  
There were no lights glowing so Jarod headed for the kitchen, checking rooms as he passed them. As he peered into the library, a flash of lightning created a perfect silhouette of the woman standing in front of the French doors. The double doors were open a few inches, allowing rain to blow in from the veranda.  
  
Though the pretender moved almost soundlessly, she must have heard him approach, because she was not startled when he spoke. "Are you okay?" Jarod asked.  
  
"No," was the whispered response.  
  
Jarod stepped to one side and admired the woman's features. Even in the dark she was beautiful. She wore a sleeveless silk negligee that hung to her thighs. Jarod couldn't tell what color it was; only that it was pale against her dark ebony flesh. Her deeply brown skin was a black shadow against the blackness of the gloom around her.  
  
Jarod promptly abandoned his search for Miss Parker. This was safer, less risky. "What's wrong, Mercedes?" the pretender voice was soft and low.  
  
As if in answer to his question, there was a bright flare of lightning that made them both flinch. Thunder clapped almost immediately. In the moment of illumination, Jarod could see the shimmering wetness of tears on Mercedes cheeks.  
  
"Mercedes," Jarod urged, reaching out to touch her arm.  
  
The dark woman sniffed. "Adama loved the wet season," she whispered. "When the first big storm of the year arrived, he'd rush us home. We would dash into the arboretum and make love in the gardens." Mercedes' eyes fluttered shut, savoring her memories. "The glass walls and roof made the rain seem so much louder, the storm so much more fierce.  
  
Lightning struck again and thunder growled like a lazy tiger.  
  
Mercedes moaned. "My husband is dead," whispered woefully. "And yet my body aches for him. My lips tingle in anticipation of his kiss. I yearn for his touch. It is a touch I will never feel again. I am empty and so very alone."  
  
Jarod gazed sadly at the trembling vision before him. "You are only alone," he said softly. "Because you permit it."  
  
Mercedes sniffled and cast him a wary look.  
  
Stepping into her personal space, Jarod reached up and tenderly caressed Mercedes' damp cheek. "Perhaps, this touch can help ease your pain," he purred.  
  
Mercedes' eyes closed and she nuzzled her cheek against Jarod's palm. Thunder rumbled forlornly through the room and Mercedes made a soft sound of want. "It's our first big storm," she whispered dreamily as she leaned against Jarod's chest. "I need to make love in the garden."  
  
"There is no garden here," Jarod reminded her gently.  
  
Tilting her head back, Mercedes looked up into Jarod's face. "We'll pretend," she said.  
  
Mercedes pressed her body against Jarod's, sending any rational thought scurrying from his mind. "I can pretend," Jarod said huskily. He bent and kissed her deeply, tasting the saltiness of tears on her lips.  
  
Jarod knew what Mercedes was asking of him. He understood the emptiness that she was trying to fill. He was no more than a handy substitute. But frankly, Jarod didn't care. If Mercedes could find solace in his arms then he was happy to provide it. She needed him and Jarod wanted so badly to be needed.  
  
Nibbling his way across Mercedes' jaw line, Jarod worked his way down her neck to nip at the hollow of her shoulder. As the storm intensified outside, the desire grew between them. Jarod's hands roamed over her body, greedily claiming every inch of her. When his fingertips brushed the apex between her thighs Mercedes gasped aloud. She was wet and very ready.  
  
Shuffling backwards several steps, Jarod hauled Mercedes away from the window. When his legs bumped against the back of the couch he stopped. Not quite standing, Jarod perched against the couch and lifted Mercedes in his arms. He didn't even bother to remove her clothing. He simply yanked the crotch of her panties to one side, freed himself from his loose fitting pants, and gave this dark beauty what she wanted.  
  
Miss Parker entered the room at the same moment that the pretender entered his lover. Embarrassment and shock rooted Parker to the spot in silence. She stood frozen among the shadows of the archway that led to the next room.  
  
Parker was standing several yards behind the couple, a forgotten mug of cocoa in her hand. Jarod was facing the opposite direction, but Mercedes had simply to open her eyes and glance over the pretender's shoulder and she would see Parker staring at them. Yet Parker still could not move.  
  
Several seconds ticked by. Lightning flashed, brightening the room long enough for Parker to see the muscles rippling across Jarod's back. It was a remarkable display of the pretender's strength and coordination.  
  
A deafening roar of thunder jolted Parker into action. Stepping back the way she had come, Parker drifted into the shadows. Moving to the furthest most corner of next room, she went straight to the bar. She added a second, larger dollop of brandy to the one she had put in her cocoa less than a minute ago.  
  
Taking a long, deep swallow, Parker downed nearly half the cup, ignoring the burning sensation that trailed down her throat from the too hot liquid. She sat on the corner of the stone hearth in front of a cold fireplace and wrapped her hands protectively around her mug. She gazed sightlessly at a random spot on the floor and let the darkness of the room envelop her.  
  
As her astonishment began to fade, Parker shook her head and sighed in resignation. She had no right to interfere. She knew that Jarod was feeling isolated and emotionally desperate. He had gone so far as to reach out to her last night under the guise of offering comfort. But Parker had issues of her own to work through. She just couldn't give Jarod the depths of emotion that he needed right now. She was floundering herself and unable to reach out to help another.  
  
Anger flared in Parker as she realized that Mercedes was no better alternative. In her grief, the woman was more in need of support than she was able to provide it. Jarod wouldn't find what he was looking for with the dark-skinned beauty. But Parker knew that he would try.  
  
Sighing again, Parker didn't know whether to laugh or cry. They certainly made a depressing trio, this new pyramid of Centre authority. The sadness of her mother's life flitted through her mind, making Parker shiver at the comparison.  
  
Thoughts of her mother were quickly followed by those of her father, bringing Parker back to the source of anxiety that had plagued her for the last several days. Now that Raines was dead, Parker had the opportunity to have his DNA tested and compared to her own. Though Jarod had not offered, she knew he would not object if she asked for the tests. Yet something prevented her from making the request.  
  
Parker had spent a lifetime loving a single man as her father. She had molded her life around the type of person she had believed him to be. Regardless of his true disposition, Parker would in some ways, always struggle for his pride.  
  
Dr. Raines on the other hand, had been a frightening, ominous force in Parker's life. He had been the boogeyman in her closet, the monster under her bed. When she had grown to womanhood, Parker learned what a cruel snake Raines had been. At some point, her fear had been replaced by disdain and revulsion.  
  
Did she really want confirmation that this disease-riddled, power-hungry maniac was her genetic sire? If so, how had Miss Parker and her brother come into being? Parker found the mere thought of Raines and her mother together absolutely revolting.  
  
It was all so confusing. Parker felt as though she had lost the fundamental core of her personality. Ironically, the experience gave her a much clearer picture of the emotional tug-of-war that Jarod had battled with for years.  
  
Draining the now cold liquid from her cup, Parker glanced out a nearby window and realized that the storm had passed. The rain had ceased to beat against the glass pane some time ago. The darkness outside was complete for dawn was still several hours away.  
  
Peeking carefully around corners as she went this time, Parker tiptoed into the library. It was empty. The French doors were tightly closed as though no one had been here. Dashing guiltily through the darkened room, Parker ran, the hem of her silk robe fluttering around her feet. She crept up the stairs and headed for her room as quietly as she could.  
  
As she passed Jarod's bedroom, Parker noticed that his door was slightly ajar. For a long moment, she stood there, chewing her lower lip in indecision. Reaching out slowly, Parker gently pressed against the panel with her fingertips and pushed the door open.  
  
"Jarod?" she whispered.  
  
The bed was rumpled but unoccupied. Parker doubted that Jarod was the type to abandon a lover after sex. He was undoubtedly curled up in Mercedes' room, soaking up whatever affection he could find.  
  
Moving to her own room, Parker quietly closed the door and leaned against it forlornly. She could only hope that Jarod knew what he was doing, that he wouldn't get hurt. Parker tossed her robe across the foot of her bed and crawled between her cool sheets.  
  
Staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, Parker made a decision. It was time for her to get her act together. Time to start looking forward rather than back. Time to figure out who she was in her own right, not her father's, or her mother's or even Jarod's.  
  
For no matter how she looked at it, Parker had to admit that the pretender knew exactly what he was doing. He was walking into heartache but doing it anyway. Someone would need to pick up the pieces after it was all over. Parker vowed that the next time Jarod reached out for help, she would be ready. She would be strong enough, secure enough in her self-image, to be able to help him.  
  
Finally, just as the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon, Miss Parker drifted into an exhausted slumber.  
  
-  
  
End Part 8 


	10. Revelation

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
03/08/04  
  
Part9 – By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
Miss Parker moved briskly down the corridor, forcing a rather harried looking young man to jog in order to keep up with her. Ronnie, her administrative assistant, was nearly frantic as he stared at her in stunned disbelief.  
  
"But Miss Parker," he cried. "Your flight leaves in two hours. There's no time to get those pages printed in color."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded as she fluttered a thick pamphlet at him. "This new data is too influential to leave out of the presentation."  
  
"But," Ronnie began.  
  
"No 'buts'," Parker stopped. Shoving the book at him, Parker slapped its clear plastic cover against Ronnie's chest. "I only need twenty copies. Take the data down to Mr. Broots and have him print it on that fancy laser printer of his. Then grab whatever bodies you can find to disassemble these booklets and re-collate them. Get Mr. Lyle to help out."  
  
Pausing for a moment, Parker frowned at the look of panic on the young man's face. "Get it done Ronnie. Don't let me down," she urged.  
  
The man's blue eyes widened with awe then, slowly, began to crinkle at the edges as he broke into a huge grin. "You can count on me Miss Parker," he vowed.  
  
"I know I can," Parker said confidently. "Now get moving."  
  
Ronnie sprinted down the corridor, disappearing around the corner before Parker's words had left the air.  
  
Without giving the minor crisis another thought, Miss Parker continued on her way to the chairman's office. Sam followed silently at her heels. As she passed Elaine's desk just outside Jarod's office, Parker asked almost offhandedly, "Is he in?"  
  
"Not yet," the silver-haired secretary replied, looking up from her computer keyboard. "He called to say that he has been delayed in a meeting. He should be joining you a few minutes."  
  
Nodding perfunctorily, Parker opened the office door and stepped inside.  
  
Mercedes was already waiting. She sat in the chair facing Jarod's desk, as though she was preparing to be interviewed. Ishmael stood quietly against the wall, doing what sweepers do best, blending into the surroundings with menacing efficiency.  
  
Parker nodded in greeting. Crossing the room, she perched on the windowsill and gazed thoughtfully at the bright blue sky. She closed her eyes for a moment and listened. Parker's inner sense buzzed in her mind like the hiss of a florescent light bulb. The hum was constantly there, white noise skittering along the edges of her conscious mind. But most of the time the murmurs faded into the background, barely noticeable and easily ignored. It was only when Parker focused on the sound was she able to actually discern voices.  
  
Of course, Parker's inner sense would never become as powerful as her brother's. Even her mother's abilities, though meager compared to Ethan's, seemed to have been far superior to what Parker could manage. Random words, plucked from nothing, were the most Parker could hope to understand when she made the attempt. It was like driving around a large crowd of people. No conversation heard clearly, snippets and pieces of words flitting through the air.  
  
Yet, during the last three weeks, Parker had listened to her inner sense often. She found the whispering voices to be soothing. They no longer brought menacing messages of doom, only the soft sense of reassurance. The fact that the voices blocked Mercedes from her mind was simply an added bonus.  
  
It wasn't that Parker wanted to keep anything from the other woman. But since the night of the storm, there had been more than one occasion when Parker had felt the strange tingling sensation that preceded Mercedes' gift. Parker had no desire to share her thoughts with the other woman, nor did she wish to have even the slightest glimpse in return.  
  
The relationship between Mercedes and Jarod continued. Though they made no secret of the fact that they were sharing a bedroom, their conduct beyond the confines of that room was strictly platonic. In public, Jarod treated Mercedes just as he had since the day he met her. There were no displays of affection between them.  
  
That was fine with Miss Parker. If the two of them were to start holding hands and ogling each other, Parker would be forced to either shoot them or barf on them. Frankly, she'd had enough of that when Brigitte had married her father.  
  
Parker just wasn't quite ready to deal with her feelings in regards to the pretender and his new flame. There were other aspects of her life she needed to get in order first. On the night of the storm, Parker had decided to move forward with her life. Easier said than done. During that first couple of days, the seemingly insurmountable task had been frighteningly overwhelming.  
  
After several sleepless nights and a great deal of soul searching, Parker had discovered some of the simple truths in her life. She loved her father. She had hated some of the things he had done, wished that things between them had been different, but she loved him none-the-less. Whether he'd been her biological father or not, really didn't matter.  
  
Raines was dead and buried. Parker had personally tossed the first handful of soil on his coffin. If there was a just god in the cosmos, William Raines was now frying in Hell and would do so for the rest of eternity.  
  
Yet there was something far more stunning that Parker had learned. Now that the way was clear for her to leave The Centre, she realized that she no longer wanted to go. There was no reason to do so. This revelation in itself was traumatically unexpected.  
  
The Centre was no longer run by power-hungry, unscrupulous men. Those opposing the current chairman were more likely to find themselves tarred and feathered rather than assassinated. The place was sloughing off decades of corruption like a snake peeling its skin.  
  
Parker was a valued member of The Centre's new regime. Jarod had placed her in a level of authority second only to himself. Rather than just paying lip service to her talents, as her father had done, Jarod casually gave Parker the most import assignments. His unwavering confidence in her abilities was addictively appealing.  
  
In the most basic of terms, Parker was beginning to enjoy her job. It was still stressful and incredibly challenging at times, but the possibility of succeeding with a project now brought excitement, not dismay.  
  
Movement edged across Parker's peripheral vision, pulling her from her thoughts. Still facing the window, Parker sensed the motion of Mercedes as she rose from her chair. The other woman must have made some kind of dismissive gesture because a moment later, Ishmael and Sam both left the room quietly.  
  
A long silence followed as Mercedes approached and stood at Parker's side, gazing at the horizon.  
  
"You're angry with me," Mercedes stated in a low voice.  
  
Parker shook her head. "Why would I be angry?" she asked casually.  
  
The dark-skinned woman smiled sadly. "Lie to them if you like. Lie even to yourself," she scolded. "But you can't hide the truth from me. I know how you feel about him."  
  
Parker shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said.  
  
Mercedes smiled again. "You're a poor liar, Miss Parker," she said tenderly.  
  
"No. I'm actually quite good at it," Parker laughed. "There are very few people who can tell when I'm being deceitful. You happen to be one of them," she added offhandedly.  
  
"Jarod is another," Mercedes observed.  
  
Parker nodded slowly. "Yes. He is," she admitted. "At times, he seems to be able to read my mind as well as you do."  
  
"Yet neither of us is quite sure how you feel about all this," Mercedes said pointedly.  
  
Parker made no reply.  
  
"He's worried. He's concerned that our," Mercedes paused, looking for the most delicate term. "Actions may be upsetting you in some way."  
  
Parker turned to her companion, her eyebrows rising with surprise. "He told you that?" she asked.  
  
"No," Mercedes said quickly.  
  
"You plucked it out of his head," Parker accused.  
  
Mercedes shrugged. "Perhaps."  
  
"He wouldn't want you doing that," Parker frowned.  
  
"I know," Mercedes answered. "But sometimes I just need to find out what's going on in that brilliant mind of his."  
  
"Good luck." Parker's bitter laugh hung in the air. "I doubt even he understands that much."  
  
"You're probably right," Mercedes agreed. Abruptly turning toward the door she cocked her head, listening to some sound only she could hear. "He's coming," she said softly.  
  
Jarod strolled through the door a moment later, bringing the sweepers in with him. As he looked from one woman to the other, a concerned frown furrowed his brow. He seemed a little nervous, as if he suspected some sort of plot.  
  
"Don't look so worried," Parker snipped. "You act as though we were talking behind your back."  
  
"Weren't you?" Jarod asked.  
  
"What do you think?" Parker returned with a playful grin. Jarod knew better than to be taken in by that look. But try as he might, he couldn't find it in him to get upset with Parker when she smiled that way.  
  
Glancing suspiciously at the ladies, Jarod sighed then seemed to shrug off his consternation. Moving to his desk, Jarod sat and began to quickly scan the stack of phone messages his secretary had left for him. "Are we ready for this meeting with the joint chiefs?" he asked.  
  
"I'm have a few pages of the presentation reprinted," Parker answered.  
  
"A few pages?" the chairman glanced up with concern.  
  
Parker nodded. "I'm adding the new fiscal data for the Minos project. I thought the budget overruns could help our case."  
  
Smirking wryly Jarod nodded. "Convince them that biological weapons development is just too expensive, eh?"  
  
Parker shrugged innocently. "In order to create those types of weapons systems, we have to create the preventative solutions first, for safety reasons. Going through with the second phase and developing the weapon is just an inefficient use of resources."  
  
Jarod smiled. "Is that the angle you want to take on this?" he asked.  
  
"If you approve," Parker replied.  
  
"I do," Jarod agreed. "This is your deal, Parker. I'm only going along for the P.R."  
  
"I know," she explained. "But I didn't want to seem pretentious. After all, you are the boss."  
  
As they talked, Ishmael began to fidget. Sam put one hand to his ear, pressing the earpiece of his radio more securely in place. It quickly became apparent that there was something bothering the sweeper team.  
  
Jarod frowned when he noticed the odd behavior. "What is it, Sam?" he asked.  
  
"There seems to be a disturbance in the lobby, sir," the stocky man replied. "Someone is attempting to get by security without authorization."  
  
This news caused concern for all present. The Centre was a much safer place than it had been in the past. But they all knew how tenacious this newly found influence could be.  
  
Jarod stood and quickly opened a wooden cabinet, revealing an array of monitors. Using a remote control, he turned on one of the screens and flicked through a number of channels until he located the transmission from the lobby's security camera. The black and white image showed half a dozen security guards courteously but firmly preventing the approach of a tall middle-aged man with salt and pepper colored hair.  
  
Parker gazed at the monitor over Jarod's shoulder. The remote clattered to the floor a heartbeat later as the pretender bolted across the room. As he ran from his office, Jarod yanked the door open with such force that it crashed against the wall with a loud bang.  
  
Immediately recognizing their intruder, Parker giggled like a schoolgirl and dashed after Jarod. "Come on!" she yelled at her companions.  
  
The door leading to the stairwell was clicking closed just as the two ladies reached the corridor. A moment later, the elevator pinged open and Parker hurried everyone on board.  
  
"What's going on?" Mercedes asked as they began their descent.  
  
"You'll see," Parker grinned. She winked at a broadly smiling Sam as she gestured to Ishmael to put away the weapon he had drawn.  
  
Luckily, the lift didn't stop at any intermediate floor so as the doors slid open at the ground level they were just in time to see Jarod darting around the corner. The pretender skidded to a stop so abruptly that his shoes slipped on the linoleum. He was forced to pinwheel his arms comically in order to keep from falling.  
  
For a split second, there was complete silence as everyone gaped at the chairman standing at the lobby's edge.  
  
"Let him go!" Jarod yelled at the guards.  
  
The older man jerked away from the security officers and sighed with relief. "I didn't believe it was true," he said in a wavering voice.  
  
Jarod nodded tearfully. "Afraid so," he whispered.  
  
Major Charles threw his arms around his son and began to laugh merrily. "It's good to see you, Jarod." Stepping back, the major carefully examined the younger man before him. "Are you alright? "he asked, casting a meaningful glance at Miss Parker.  
  
Jarod laughed. "I'm fine, Dad. Really."  
  
The two men tearfully embraced each other again, Jarod burying his face in his father's shoulder.  
  
"Jarod," Parker called, softly brushing her fingertips across his back. "Perhaps you'd like to talk with the Major in private."  
  
With a sniff, Jarod nodded. Straightening, he smiled at his father. As they began to head toward the elevators, an authorization badge seemed to magically appear on the Major's lapel. Though the older man glanced at the sweepers nervously, he followed Jarod's lead and did his best to ignore their presence.  
  
"How did you find me?" Jarod asked as he pressed the button for the desired floor.  
  
Grinning broadly the major answered, "Ethan found the obituary in the New York Times."  
  
Jarod frowned. "What obituary?"  
  
"Raines," was the reply. "There was a quarter page column published on the day of his funeral. It claimed that William Raines was survived by two children and that his corporate duties were already being fulfilled by an old family friend by the name of Jarod."  
  
Jarod glanced at Miss Parker in shock. Shrugging casually she said, "So I stretched the truth a little bit."  
  
"'Stretched' is an understatement," Jarod bit wryly. "Twisted like a pretzel is more accurate. Why did you feel the need to have an obituary published for Raines, of all people?"  
  
"I figured there might be one or two people out there who would find the news interesting," Parker stated as she calmly inspected her fingernails.  
  
A huge grin spread across Jarod's face. "You were hoping my parents would see it," he purred affectionately. "You were counting on it."  
  
"It worked," Parker replied. The look on Jarod's face warmed Parker's soul. His dark eyes beamed with unabashed adoration. It was glaringly apparent that the pretender absolutely worshiped her. In that moment, Parker realized that the feeling was a completely mutual one.  
  
As the elevator doors opened, Jarod turned to his father and threw one arm over the major's shoulders. He began to chatter excitedly as they headed down the corridor. Parker, stunned momentarily by her epiphany, stared after them.  
  
Sam eased by her but Parker stopped him with a gentle touch. "Give them some privacy," she ordered. "Stand your post outside the door."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied automatically.  
  
"Mercedes," Parker called. "Our plane leaves in thirty minutes. The Major can't go to D.C. dressed in jeans and a flight jacket."  
  
"Hmm," the dark-skinned woman agreed. "It's a shame we don't have any dress blues for him."  
  
Parker shook her head. "A retired major won't impress anyone at the Pentagon. Let's just get him a good suit. He looks like a 38 long, don't you think?"  
  
"I'll find a tailor. We can make alterations while in flight if necessary," Mercedes said thoughtfully. The African woman stepped back onto the elevator with Ishmael and disappeared behind the sliding metal doors.  
  
Parker gazed at the closed doors for a long moment, wondering what her next step should be. Parker knew she could take Jarod from Mercedes whenever she liked. But the idea of struggling over the pretender like children fighting over a favored toy just didn't seem to sit well with her. Besides, she liked Mercedes and did not want to bring the still grieving widow any more pain.  
  
With a sigh, Parker motioned to Omar who stood nearby. Punching the call button, she waited for the elevator to return. There was too much to be done for her to waste time fretting over this problem. For now, she would need to put these thoughts aside.  
  
--  
  
End part 9 


	11. Believe

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
03/14/04  
  
Part10 – By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
"How do I look?" Jarod asked nervously.  
  
Mercedes rose from her position on the couch and smiled. "As handsome as always," she purred.  
  
Jarod smoothed down his tie with one hand and tugged at his jacket with the other. "The suit isn't too much is it?" he said with a frown.  
  
"Nonsense," Mercedes replied as she straightened the pretender's tie.  
  
Parker watched the scene silently, clenching her jaw in irritation. Why was Mercedes always messing with his tie? It looked much better the way Jarod always tied it, just a fraction of an inch off-center. Never crooked enough to be overtly noticeable, Parker felt that the minute tilt in the silk was the manifestation of Jarod's boyish side.  
  
It was that boy who gazed across the room at Miss Parker now.  
  
"The suit's too much," he said, more as a statement than a question.  
  
Parker rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You could be wearing a burlap sack," she groaned. "Your mother won't care."  
  
"I'm going to change," Jarod declared. He spun on his heel and practically ran from the room.  
  
"Wait, Jarod!" Mercedes started after him.  
  
"Don't," Parker snapped. "He's a big bundle of nervous energy. Let him burn some of it off by fretting over his clothes."  
  
Mercedes' brow furrowed with concern. "I've never seen him so," she paused, searching for the right word. "Restless."  
  
Parker's jaw gaped in astonishment. "Are we talking about the same pretender?" she gasped. "This is the guy who will eat sugar straight from the cane and then climb the walls for an hour."  
  
"He doesn't let me see that side of his personality," the African woman said with a sigh.  
  
"Maybe you just choose not to see it," Parker observed.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Mercedes' voice rose.  
  
Sam entered the room, forestalling any response Miss Parker may have made. Tension between the two women had been getting steadily worse in the two days since Major Charles had appeared in the Centre's lobby. Jarod, too wrapped up by the prospect of finally meeting his mother, was oblivious to the strain. But the sweeper had noticed. It made him decidedly uncomfortable to be in the same room with both ladies.  
  
"Sam," Parker said as a form of greeting. "What kept you?" she asked, glancing meaningfully at her watch.  
  
"Jarod asked me to change," the sweeper gestured to the jeans and blue windbreaker that made up his current attire. "He said he didn't want to spook anyone."  
  
Parker nodded. "Don't let him ditch you, Sam. He may try to give you the slip."  
  
"I'll do my best," Sam promised. "But if he really doesn't want me going..."  
  
"I know," Parker sighed. "And frankly, I wouldn't blame him. But we need to be cautious." Sam nodded his understanding.  
  
"How's this?" Jarod called as he bounded back into the room. He held his arms out and modeled for his audience. The pretender now wore smooth black jeans and a deep rust colored sweater. He had replaced his polished dress shoes with a favored pair of worn boots. With his disheveled hair and leather jacket, Jarod made for an appealing vision.  
  
"Perfect," Miss Parker smiled indulgently.  
  
Jarod grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Since the Major's arrival, the pretender had been practically walking on air. When his father had told him that the rest of his family had found one another, Jarod had whooped for joy. Major Charles had left for Georgia this morning, giving Jarod enough time to rearrange his work schedule before joining his folks for a visit. Parker suspected that the older man had wanted to brief the rest of the family about the Centre's new chairman.  
  
Glancing at his watch, Jarod rocked anxiously from one foot to the other. "It's almost time to go," he said. "I'll be back Monday."  
  
"Sure you will," Parker scoffed. "If you're not back in a week, I'm sending out a search party."  
  
The pretender beamed. "Yes, Ma'am," he snickered gleefully.  
  
Mercedes stepped forward and brushed a stray bit of fluff from Jarod's shoulder. "I understand your enthusiasm," she said. "But remember your position. Your behavior should properly reflect your status."  
  
Jarod straightened, the light in his eyes dimming a bit. For Parker, it was easy to see the pretender donning his role of chairman the way other men pull on a coat. The boy that had been smiling at her a moment ago vanished and was replaced by a formidable businessman.  
  
"Get the best deal you can from the Los Angeles delegation," he told Mercedes in a crisp voice. "You can increase the offer by three quarters of a percent if pressed. If they ask for more than that, just let them walk."  
  
The woman's dark eyes lowered in a slight bow of obedience.  
  
"Let's go, Sam," Jarod called over his shoulder as he turned and left the room without a backward glance.  
  
Parker waited until the front door had closed behind the departing men. Then she turned to Mercedes and hissed, "If you ever do that again, I will break every bone in your body."  
  
Mercedes frowned. She could feel the rage radiating from Miss Parker like heat from a furnace. "Do what?" the black woman asked.  
  
"Scold him for being so excited," Parker growled. She clenched her hands into fists in a feeble attempt to rein in her anger. "You can't possibly understand what he's going through right now."  
  
"I think I have a reasonable grasp of the situation," Mercedes replied. "But he must not forget who he is."  
  
"Who you want him to be, you mean." The fragile thread of control Miss Parker had on her temper abruptly snapped and her voice took on an icy chill.  
  
"He's the chairman," Mercedes reiterated.  
  
Parker stalked threateningly toward the other woman. Her anger blinded her to everything else. Mercedes, whether she knew it or not, was attempting to squelch the very spark that made Jarod special. Parker's Ice Queen, in all her fury, suddenly resurfaced to protect him. "He isn't the chairman you were hoping for," she purred cruelly. "Adama is dead."  
  
Mercedes flinched as though she'd been slapped.  
  
Miss Parker advanced, seething with rage. "You can't turn Jarod into your dead husband," she drawled coldly. "Oh, he will try to be what you want. He is so eager to please that he will really try. But Jarod just can't replicate Adama's blind ambition."  
  
"Stop it, Parker," Mercedes voice trembled.  
  
"No," Parker snapped. "I won't let you use him anymore."  
  
Dark eyes, bright with fury, glared across the room. "It isn't like that between us," Mercedes said.  
  
Stepping closer, Parker continued her onslaught. "Tell me. Whose name do you call out when you're in bed? How many times have you called him Adama by mistake?"  
  
The dark woman swallowed hard.  
  
"At least once I gather," Parker's lips curled in a vicious smirk.  
  
Mercedes' ire rose to the challenge. "I'll tell you one thing, Miss Parker," she cooed. "Jarod never forgets who he is with. It's my name he whispers in the dark, no one else's. Certainly not yours."  
  
Nearly snarling with frustration, Parker reached out and grabbed the other woman's arm without thinking. The heightened emotions of both women served to strengthen each one's gift. A snapping tingle of electricity raced up Parker's arm from the point of contact. Their surroundings abruptly vanished and they were plunged into darkness.  
  
Parker couldn't see. There was blackness all around. But a familiar scent bombarded her. It was the warm, sweet yet tangy aroma of suede, aftershave and a trace of koolaid-like sugariness. It was Jarod's scent, one Parker had detected often during the years. But never before had she been so submersed in it. The fragrance surrounded her like a heavy quilt, as though the essence of him was burying her.  
  
Parker felt strong fingers brush lightly across her stomach, along the valley between her breasts and up her neck to caress her lips. The touch seemed so real, so enticing that it brought goose bumps to Parker's flesh. Her mind cried out, struggling to protect herself from the sensations Mercedes was thrusting into her mind.  
  
Parker lashed out with her own gift, searching, probing the darkness like a blind creature. A voice echoed back at her, the delighted, uninhibited laughter of a boy. The sound lilted through the darkness, circling her again and again. "Cree craw toad's foot geese walk barefoot," the child sang.  
  
The timber suddenly deepened into that of a man. "Cute, Parker, "he purred seductively. "Not funny but cute."  
  
Jarod's voice continued through their mind. "Missing pieces... You send too much time in graveyards. I remember."The flow of words increased, overlapping until they tumbled into nonsense. "Remember. It's supposed to be that way. Read the card. First kiss. I run. Kiss. Storm outside. EndinguptoyouChaseSupposedtobe."  
  
With a wrenching jolt, Parker blinked and the darkness was gone. She looked up and saw Mercedes leaning against the wall, rubbing her arm were Parker had grabbed her. The other woman gazed at Parker with a look of stunned confusion.  
  
"Why?" Mercedes asked.  
  
The venom in Parker's anger slipped away. How was she to explain her feelings to this woman, when she could barely fathom them herself? Sighing wearily Parker asked, "Do you love him?"  
  
"He's a good man," Mercedes replied. "And I care about him."  
  
"You don't love him," Parker said.  
  
"No," Mercedes admitted. "He doesn't love me either."  
  
Parker shook her head sadly, "But don't you see? He will try to. In his mind, people who share a bed are supposed to love one another. He will try to love you because he thinks he should."  
  
The other woman's dark eyes pooled with moisture. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered.  
  
"I know. And I understand, truly I do. But in pretending to be a couple, you are both alone," Parker argued. "You and Jarod are simply sharing your loneliness. In the long run, you'll only make matters worse. You will prolong your grief rather than accepting it."  
  
Mercedes stared at the floor for a long moment, thinking. Parker had turned and was about to leave the room when the other woman spoke. "He deserves more," she said tenderly.  
  
"He always has," Parker agreed as she walked away.  
  
--  
  
Jarod hadn't come back to Delaware on Monday morning. He was currently a full five days overdue. But Parker wasn't worried. She had promised him a week before she went looking for him. A week he would get.  
  
With a little luck, the pretender wouldn't reappear for another day or two. Parker needed the extra time to get organized. She wanted to be well situated before Jarod returned and discovered what she had done.  
  
After the argument with Mercedes, Parker had marched to her room, packed her things and moved out. With poor Kurt in tow, she had gone back to her little house on Mountainspring road. The sweeper was now living in the guest room, functioning as her bodyguard around the clock.  
  
It had taken several days to air the house out, and even longer to get it properly cleaned. But Parker had felt that this was for the best. To be honest, it felt sinfully good to be home.  
  
"Where would you like this box, Miss Parker?" Sydney asked. The aging psychiatrist had volunteered his Saturday afternoon to help transport the last of her things from the mansion. Not that Parker really needed the older man's help, with four burly sweepers at her command. Yet, she was glad to have the company.  
  
"Take it back to the bedroom," she answered. "Kurt can show you where he's piling stuff." Using the soft cloth in her hand, Parker wiped a stray fingerprint off the glass of the picture frame she held. She carefully placed the photo on the mantelpiece with the others.  
  
Taking a step back, Parker admired her collection. There was the favorite picture of her mother standing serenely next to the last photo she'd had taken with her father. She had Debbie's last school portrait and an old snapshot of Thomas. The newest addition to the lineup was a candid shot of Sydney and Jarod taken at some charity function earlier in the month.  
  
"What are you doing?" a harsh voice growled from behind.  
  
Parker jumped, startled at the abrupt noise. Whirling around, she came face to face with a very irate-looking pretender. She hadn't heard Jarod come in. "Christ, Jarod," she gasped. "Don't sneak up on me like that."  
  
"Answer the question," the pretender snapped.  
  
Purposely stalling for time, Parker dragged her gaze up and down Jarod's lean form. He was dressed exactly he had been when she last saw him, in a rust colored sweater and black jeans. She frowned as a disturbing suspicion dawned on her.  
  
"You did change your clothes at least once, didn't you?" Parker asked in exasperation.  
  
"Yes," Jarod hissed. "And I brushed my teeth and washed behind my ears. Now would you please tell me what the hell is going on?"  
  
Parker shrugged. "It was time to come home," she said simply.  
  
Jarod eyed her critically, disbelief evident in his frown.  
  
"We couldn't live the communal life forever," she added.  
  
Shaking his head, Jarod said, "There's more to this. It can't be a coincidence."  
  
"Coincidence?" Parker asked innocently.  
  
"Mercedes packs my things and shuttles me back into my own room," Jarod cried in exasperation. "And in the same breath, she tells me that you've moved out completely."  
  
"Mercedes did what?" Parker gasped.  
  
"She told me that you left on the very night that I headed for Georgia," Jarod said. The pretender studied Parker's reactions carefully, frowning in concentration. "What happened? Did you two argue?" he asked with uncanny insight.  
  
"I suppose you could call it that," Parker admitted.  
  
"I thought you were close," Jarod said. "You had shared so much."  
  
Parker glanced away guiltily. "Some things just aren't for sharing," she whispered.  
  
Jarod shook his head with a knowing sigh. "It was me, wasn't it?" he asked. "You argued about me. That's why she dumped me."  
  
Parker grimaced. "I'm sorry if anything I have done has caused you pain, Jarod. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt."  
  
The pretender leaned wearily against the mantle. "Am I hurt?" he asked aloud. "Should I be hurt? I don't know. I've never been dumped before." Jarod sighed again as he tried to explain. "She's so alone. There's this big empty place in her where her husband used to be. I wanted to fill that spot for her, occupy that void and ease her loneliness."  
  
"Jarod," Parker tried to hide the anguish in her voice but was not completely successful.  
  
"But I know that I couldn't," the pretender went on. "There were always gaps I could not fill. We were like pieces from two different puzzles. No matter how hard you try, they just won't fit together properly."  
  
They stared at each other in silence for a long moment.  
  
"Come back to the big house with me Miss Parker," Jarod pleaded softly.  
  
Parker shook her head.  
  
Finally nodding his acceptance, Jarod smiled sadly. "I really enjoyed living with you, Parker," he said. "I liked seeing you every day."  
  
"We'll see each other at work five days a week. Maybe more," Parker promised.  
  
The pretender turned and headed for the door. "It won't be the same," he said gently.  
  
Parker watched him leave, closing the door softly behind him. "That is the point," she murmured.  
  
"I'm surprised," Sydney spoke from behind her.  
  
Rolling her eyes Parker scolded, "Eavesdropping is rude, Syd."  
  
Sydney continued, ignoring her reprimand. "The man is brilliant, and yet he can not see how you feel about him."  
  
Parker laughed miserably. "He sees," she said tenderly. "He always did. But I've spent the last decade telling him that he was imagining things, that nothing existed between us but childish fantasies. As a result, he does his best to ignore what is there."  
  
Stepping toward her, Sydney placed a reassuring hand on Parker's arm. "You could simply tell him," the psychiatrist suggested.  
  
"Not yet," Parker shook her head vehemently. "I won't have him hopping out of her bed and into mine."  
  
"You risk losing him," Sydney said.  
  
"It will be worth it in the long run," Parker stated confidently. "I have to believe that. We've suffered so much and come so far. I have to believe there's been a reason for it all."  
  
"I hope you're right," Sydney replied.  
  
"I am. I have to be."  
  
-  
  
End pt10 


	12. Sunrise and trail mix

Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property  
  
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.  
  
Of Envy and Darkness  
  
03/22/04  
  
Part11 – By Phenyx  
  
-  
  
"Come in," Miss Parker called in response to the knock on her office door.  
  
Mercedes' dark form peered into the room. "Good morning, Miss Parker," she smiled.  
  
Parker smiled in return. The first week after she had moved out of the big house had been an uncomfortable one for them. The tension between the two women had been so thick as to be nearly visible. They had conducted themselves in a stern business like manner that had seemed as false as it was strained.  
  
The second week had been better. Jarod had shown up on Monday morning in an incredibly foul mood. His snarling response to nearly every statement had been more reminiscent of Parker's behavior than that of the easy-going pretender. The women had been forced to form an unspoken allegiance in an effort to create a defense against Jarod's unpredictable ire. At times, he'd been just plain nasty.  
  
In a way, Parker understood Jarod's mood. It must be incredibly hard for him to leave his parents' home only to return to The Centre. In the weeks that had passed, Jarod had unfailingly taken off for Georgia each Friday afternoon, not returning until he had to be at work on Monday morning.  
  
"Have you talked to him yet?" Mercedes asked, cautiously stepping into the room.  
  
"Didn't realize he was back," Parker shook her head.  
  
"He is," the other woman sighed. "Do your best to avoid him if possible. He's in a real snit."  
  
"Thanks for the warning," Parker snickered. It looked like this was going to be a typical Monday.  
  
Mercedes' dark eyes gazed at her intently for a long moment. "Are you free for lunch?" she asked finally.  
  
Parker hesitated. Though they were getting along fine for the time being, this brief encounter was the longest personal conversation the two women had shared since their argument three weeks ago.  
  
"We need to talk," Mercedes urged.  
  
"Okay," Parker agreed.  
  
"Good." Mercedes turned and strode toward the door. "Clear your afternoon. We'll go to Etienne's."  
  
"Noon?" Miss Parker asked.  
  
Mercedes nodded. Pausing for a moment as she stood in the corridor, Mercedes glanced over her shoulder at Miss Parker. "Let's leave the boys behind, shall we?"  
  
"Alright," Parker said. Ditching Sam wouldn't be a problem. He wouldn't be happy about it, but Parker knew that the sweeper would do as he was told.  
  
--  
  
Parker had been right about Sam. Once she had fully briefed him on where she would be and promised to check in at regular intervals, Sam had relented. He'd even loaned Parker his car. Granted, she had literally demanded it but he had handed over the keys with little fuss.  
  
The drive into Dover with Mercedes had been a quiet one. They spoke little and when they did it was about Centre business. It wasn't until they had reached the restaurant and had been shown to their seats that Mercedes broached the subject she wanted to discuss.  
  
"Lord McCuffe has announced his retirement from the Triumvirate," the dark woman abruptly said.  
  
"I heard," Parker replied as she sipped at a glass of water. "My understanding is that he wants to spend time with his ailing wife."  
  
Mercedes nodded. "The Triumvirate has contacted Jarod about the opening."  
  
"They've offered Jarod a seat on the Triumvirate?" Parker gasped.  
  
"Didn't he tell you?" Mercedes asked with surprise.  
  
"No," Parker said, frowning. "Jarod has been rather tightlipped lately. I think he may be avoiding me."  
  
"It's not just you," Mercedes said. "He's been very withdrawn in general. He's not even talking to Sydney."  
  
Parker shrugged. "He's upset about the breakup," she said. Glancing up guiltily Parker added, "I wish you'd told me that you were going to end it with him."  
  
"I didn't know," Mercedes admitted. "It wasn't until I told him that you were gone, and saw the resulting look on his face, that I realized it was over between us. Hell," she added with a shrug. "It never really started."  
  
The conversation stopped as a waiter approached and took their orders. When the young man left, Parker sighed forlornly and said, "Still, staying in the same house must be difficult for you both."  
  
"I don't think Jarod's behavior has much to do with me," Mercedes denied. "I realize that he wanted more but he just isn't acting like I've broken his heart. I get the distinct impression that he is more angry with himself than with me."  
  
"If you've asked me here to validate your opinion, you've come to the wrong person," Parker quipped. "I never see him outside of staff meetings."  
  
"Actually," Mercedes said with a shrug. "The reason I wanted to have lunch has absolutely nothing to do with Jarod."  
  
Parker's eyebrows rose inquisitively.  
  
"He doesn't want the Triumvirate seat," Mercedes explained. "But he wants to be sure that the position is filled by someone who supports his leadership."  
  
Parker nodded, knowing what was coming next. "He's offered it to you," she said knowingly.  
  
"Yes," Mercedes said. "And I've accepted. I leave for Africa at the end of the month."  
  
Parker blinked at the other woman in surprise as the waiter reappeared with their food.  
  
"Jarod has tasked me with finding my own replacement," Mercedes went on once they were alone again. "I was thinking that Mr. Broots seems highly capable."  
  
Parker nearly choked on her salad.  
  
"You don't agree?" Mercedes asked.  
  
"Broots is the best," Parker replied after the coughing subsided. "He's very good at his job. But I'm not sure how well he can give orders."  
  
"I believe he can learn," Mercedes smiled.  
  
Parker nodded. "What does Broots think of this?" she asked.  
  
"I wanted to discuss the idea with you first," Mercedes admitted. There was a long pause as the women ate for a time. "Kurt would like to stay," the dark-skinned woman said as she drained her wine glass.  
  
"That's fine," Parker responded. "He's a good man. I'm sure we can arrange to have his green card renewed."  
  
"Jarod promised to take care of it," Mercedes told her.  
  
"This will sound trite," Parker said. "But you will be missed."  
  
Dark eyes sparkled as Mercedes smiled. "I never intended to stay in the States for this long," she said. "You were right. It's time to go home. But there are many things in America that I will miss."  
  
"Like Jarod," Parker nodded.  
  
"Like you Miss Parker," the dark woman said. "We haven't always gotten along. But I feel that we have a great deal in common. The experiences we have shared make us more than just friends."  
  
Parker huffed in disbelief.  
  
Mercedes reached out and took Miss Parker's hand. "We don't always like the people we love," she whispered.  
  
The restaurant wavered around them and vanished into the sweltering heat of an African savanna. Two girls stood under the blinding sun, grinning at each other as hot gusts of wind blew through their hair.  
  
"I will never forget you, Sister," whispered through their minds. "Forgive me."  
  
"No," Parker's voice answered. "There is nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong."  
  
The other dinners abruptly reappeared as reality snapped into focus around them.  
  
"I'm the one who is sorry," Parker smiled wryly. "I made things difficult for you."  
  
"It's been a difficult situation," Mercedes admitted. With a smile she added, "But then, things have never been easy for the two of you."  
  
"There's the understatement of the century," Parker smirked.  
  
"Why do you fight the feelings you both so obviously have for each other?" Mercedes asked.  
  
Parker shrugged. "You said it yourself," she sighed. "Things have never been easy for us."  
  
"I half expected my involvement to escalate the relationship between you and Jarod," Mercedes said as she crunched at her food. "It surprised me that you left."  
  
Parker stared thoughtfully at her plate. "Its not that I wasn't jealous. I was. I still am," she admitted.  
  
"Will it be easier when I'm gone?" Mercedes asked.  
  
"I doubt it," Parker scoffed. "Especially with the mood he's been in lately."  
  
"I wish I knew what was bothering him," Mercedes sighed as she pushed aside her empty plate.  
  
"I'll find out," Parker said. "Sooner or later, I will figure it out."  
  
--  
  
Over the next couple of weeks, Parker and Mercedes spent a great deal of time together. Despite the differences between them, they did share a very unique bond. Parker had seldom had good friends in her life so she refused to let go of the strange connection that had formed with Mercedes. Jarod became a strictly taboo topic between them as the two women prepared for Mercedes' trip to Africa.  
  
For Miss Parker, Mercedes' departure marked the end of a significant phase of life at The Centre. The transition of power was complete. Parker no longer thought of the chairman's office as her father's. It was Jarod's office. Day to day activities at the Centre ran as smoothly as if Jarod had always been in charge.  
  
Life took on a stability, a daily routine that was odd in its normality. Jarod and Parker worked together all week and accomplished a great deal. They functioned well together, each perfectly supporting the other's talents. But then, that wasn't unusual. Past experience had proven that they made an excellent team.  
  
Every Friday, Jarod went to Georgia to spend time with his family. Every Monday he appeared at The Centre with a face as dark and brooding as a stormy night. The strange thing about Jarod's behavior was that his mood did little to improve as the weekend approached.  
  
Parker did her best to be patient with the pretender, as difficult as it was. She knew that Jarod could not be pushed into revealing anything before he was ready. Parker had known him long enough to know that much. Pressing would only make him more withdrawn. She knew that Jarod would talk when he was ready, and not before. She could only hope that he would be ready before she blew her calm exterior and put a bullet in him.  
  
"What do you think of this Colonel O'Neill?" Jarod asked as they walked toward the elevator after a meeting one afternoon.  
  
Parker shrugged. "He was along for the ride," she said. "He obviously didn't have a clue what our research was about. The Major on the other hand,"  
  
"Yeah," Jarod agreed. "I noticed her too."  
  
"She's hard not to notice," Parker smirked. "A pretty blond thing like that."  
  
Jarod rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant," he said. "Did you notice the way she was looking at the specs? Like a dog eying a juicy bone. She's got something in mind for this project. Some alternate purpose for the device."  
  
"I picked up on that too," Parker agreed with a nod.  
  
"Makes me damned nervous," Jarod grumped. "I really hate working with the military. I can never be sure what they have up their sleeves." He stormed into his office with a frown on his face. The pretender chewed on his lower lip for a moment before coming to an abrupt decision. "Stall the program," he stated firmly. "Cancel our next meeting with them and don't reschedule."  
  
Just like that, another project died an untimely death. The current research would be gathered up and filed away somewhere until it collected dust. Jarod would be forced to jump through a few financial hoops to make up for the loss but he would manage. He always did. Finding creative new sources of income wasn't easy. But it was the price of a clear conscience, as Jarod would say.  
  
"Are you busy this evening Miss Parker?" Jarod asked.  
  
The sudden change of topic took Parker a bit by surprise. "No," she responded.  
  
"Go for a ride with me," Jarod said.  
  
"Aren't you flying to your parents' house today?" Parker asked.  
  
"Not tonight," Jarod replied.  
  
Parker shrugged. "Okay. Where are we going?"  
  
"It's a surprise," Jarod smiled. "I want to show you something."  
  
"Okay," Parker said again. She turned to leave, needing to wrap up a few things in her office before she left for the weekend. As an afterthought, she cast a wary glance back at her employer. "What should I wear?" she asked cautiously.  
  
"Nothing that you don't want to replace," Jarod answered.  
  
"Uh oh," Parker frowned.  
  
Unsure of what Jarod's little surprise had in store for her, Parker did her best to be prepared for anything. When the pretender picked her up in front of her house a few hours later, Parker was wearing blue jeans and an old pair of running shoes. She carried an oversized bag that held a change of clothes, another pair of shoes and an extra sweater.  
  
Jarod eyed her with amusement as she climbed in the car and tossed her bag into the back seat.  
  
Parker raised one eyebrow with a 'have-you-got-a-problem-with-that?' glare.  
  
Without a word being spoken between them, Jarod put the engine in gear and they headed down the road. They didn't drive for long. Less than twenty minutes later, Jarod turned down a quaint little road that led toward the ocean. The street didn't really end so much as it disappeared into a sandy beach.  
  
Pulling to a stop, Jarod got out of the car and leaned against the vehicle. "Well," he asked. "What do you think?"  
  
Parker stood and followed the direction of Jarod's gaze. They were standing in front of a small beach house that had seen better days. Even in the bright afternoon sunlight, Parker couldn't tell if the house was blue or gray, the paint was just that old. The windows had the dusty look of abandonment and more than one pane was cracked. In the scraggle of weeds that passed for a yard stood a tilting "For Sale" sign.  
  
"It needs help," Parker observed wryly.  
  
"Don't we all?" Jarod answered, his voice laced with forlorn sadness.  
  
The pretender opened the trunk and removed two items, a big cardboard box and a placard roughly one foot tall by two feet wide. He carried the latter to the crooked real estate sign and popped the "Sold" notice into the grooves made to hold it.  
  
Parker felt the edges of her mouth curl into a smile as she watched Jarod step back and admire the cottage.  
  
"I signed the papers this morning," he said. "It's mine."  
  
"Congratulations," Parker said with complete sincerity. "Can we go inside?"  
  
Grinning from ear to ear, Jarod pulled a key from his pocket, hefted the box onto his hip and led Parker up to the old wooden door. The hinges squeaked as they entered the dusty building.  
  
For the most part, the interior consisted of one large room. The small kitchen was separated from the larger living space by a high counter, undoubtedly meant to double as an eating area. The opposite wall consisted of a sliding glass door that faced the ocean. To the left was a door that led to a bedroom and a comfortably sized bath.  
  
Parker wandered through the empty house, peeking into closets and checking the ceiling. The walls needed paint and there was some tile that would have to be replaced. The lighting was minimal with only two ceiling bulbs in the entire place. But the foundation seemed solid and there were no water stains that would have indicated a leaking roof.  
  
"It's been neglected for a long time," Parker observed. "But there is a lot of potential here. A good scrubbing and a little paint will do wonders. It's a nice little house Jarod."  
  
"I knew you would see it the way I do," the pretender said with a smile. "The real estate agent tried to talk me out of it."  
  
"Probably hoping to sell you something bigger," Parker guessed.  
  
"Probably," Jarod agreed. "Come see the best part." Eagerly grabbing Parker's hand Jarod pulled her to the glass doors. With a little coaxing, the door slid open onto a large wooden deck that led to the beach.  
  
The flat wooden expanse was almost as big as the living area inside. There was a waist high railing that enclosed the area except at the far end where stairs led down to the sand. It didn't seem too old, and aside from needing to be cleaned, the deck was in very good shape.  
  
Parker turned toward Jarod and smiled. The pretender was sitting on the only piece of furniture she'd seen in the place, a heavy maple chaise lounge chair. Much sturdier than a typical folding deck chair, this piece had evidently been too bulky and awkward for relocation. Even stretched out in relaxation, Jarod's long frame fit comfortably on the chair with plenty of room to spare.  
  
"The sunrise from this spot must be spectacular," Jarod whispered with awe.  
  
Glancing over her shoulder, Parker gazed at the horizon. "I'm sure it is," she agreed.  
  
"Let's wait and find out," Jarod suggested.  
  
Raising one eyebrow at him, Parker said, "Sunrise is a good twelve hours away Jarod."  
  
The pretender shrugged.  
  
"What the hell," Parker said indulgently. "I've got nowhere else to be."  
  
Crossing the deck, Parker sat on the chair in an available space beside Jarod's knees. Together they sat in silence for a while, watching the waves beat methodically against the shore.  
  
"Are you hungry?" Jarod asked after a time. At her expectant look, Jarod reached over and pulled the cardboard box across the wooden floor toward him. Folding back the lid, he grinned mischievously and said, "I brought supplies."  
  
"Always the boy scout," Parker smirked.  
  
Jarod pulled a bottle from the box and turned the label so Parker could see it.  
  
"An '82 Latour," Parker whistled appreciatively. "I'm impressed."  
  
"You should be," he said haughtily. Jarod carefully produced two wine goblets and a corkscrew. He served the wine and then settled back to gaze at the ocean again.  
  
Parker sipped at her glass and savored the fine blend. Staring intently at the deep dark liquid, she asked, "What do your parents think about your house?"  
  
Jarod shrugged. "I haven't told them yet."  
  
As nonchalantly as possible, Parker continued. "Fixing it up will take some time," she said. "Are you planning to hire the job out?"  
  
"I thought I'd do it myself," Jarod answered.  
  
"This is a pretty big step," Parker said. "Home ownership is a commitment of sorts. You're establishing roots."  
  
"I suppose so," Jarod replied.  
  
Parker quietly drank another fourth of her wine before speaking again. "Want to talk about it?" she asked.  
  
"What?" Jarod asked innocently.  
  
"The fact that you have just purchased a marvelous excuse for not going to Georgia every weekend," Parker pointed out. "You'll be too busy fixing things to head south as often."  
  
Jarod shrugged noncommittally and reached into the box again. "Hungry?" he asked.  
  
Parker looked at the plastic bag he was offering her and began to laugh. "Jarod," she scolded him. "You aren't drinking a three hundred dollar bottle of wine with handfuls of trail mix!"  
  
"Why not?" Jarod cried. "What makes this less appropriate than crackers and caviar?"  
  
Shaking her head in long suffering amusement, Parker reached over and took a handful of the assorted nuts and dried fruit.  
  
Crunching contentedly Jarod smiled. "Tastes better than smelly old fish eggs anyway," he crooned.  
  
"You are a strange man," Parker snickered.  
  
"It's part of my charm," Jarod responded as his eyes sparkled mischievously.  
  
This provoked another delighted bout of laughter from Miss Parker. "Yes, it is," she agreed. Parker swung one leg onto the chair, folding it at the knee so that she was facing Jarod.  
  
Jarod sighed, suddenly serious again. The glimmer melted from his eyes and he abruptly seemed very sad. "This is so easy with you," he murmured. Reaching out he ran his fingertips down Parker's cheek. "We just, click somehow."  
  
"You're having a hard time with your folks," Parker began to understand.  
  
"It's just like my relationship with Mercedes," Jarod said staring intently into his glass. "My parents have this hole in their lives. There is this emptiness where their little boy used to live." He swallowed a long gulp of wine before continuing. "I want to fill that spot for them."  
  
"But you can't," Parker said.  
  
Jarod glanced away, trying unsuccessfully to hide his distress. "I'm not that little boy. I just don't fit into that place in their lives anymore."  
  
Placing one hand on his knee, Parker said reassuringly, "Give it time Jarod. You've been separated for so many years."  
  
The pretender looked up at her woefully. "I can give it all the time in the world, Parker," he whispered. "But I'll never really fill that spot quite right. I can never replace the child they lost."  
  
"Maybe not," Parker answered with a sigh. "But the man you've become is no less deserving of their love. Your family loves you. They may not know you or quite understand you, but they do love you."  
  
"How can you be so sure?" Jarod asked.  
  
Parker reached into the bag of snacks and stared meaningfully at the treats in her palm. Cocking one eyebrow at the pretender she drawled, "What's not to love?" With a playful smirk, she threw back her head and tossed the entire handful into her mouth.  
  
Jarod smiled. Gazing into his nearly empty glass he said, "I keep trying to find a way to make this easier for them."  
  
"Putting a family back together after thirty years is a hard thing to do," Parker said as she munched on a peanut. "There's no simple way to do it."  
  
"But there must be something I can do," Jarod frowned. "Some way that I can make them..."  
  
"No!" Parker snapped, suddenly angry. "You can't make them do anything." Her eyes flashed with irritation. "The people who love you are not pieces on a chessboard. We are not some puzzle that you need to figure out or tokens in a simulation."  
  
Jarod abruptly went very still, gazing intently at Parker for a long minute.  
  
Carelessly flipping her hair away from her face, Miss Parker shrugged away her annoyance. "Pour me some more wine," she demanded, holding out her glass.  
  
Jarod obediently refilled the crystal. A smile spread across his face as he poured wine for himself as well. Grinning with delight the pretender held his glass up in the air for a toast. "You said 'we'," Jarod purred.  
  
"Yes," Parker smiled indulgently. "I did." The crystal chimed as she brought her glass to meet his.  
  
The two sipped at the wine in silence as the sun set and darkness fell over the beach. Unable to see the waves, they simply listened to the soothing sound of surf against the shore.  
  
"Thank you, Miss Parker," Jarod said in a voice barely more than a whisper.  
  
"For what?" she asked, not turning to look at him.  
  
"For this," Jarod shrugged. "For understanding. For being the piece that actually fits in the puzzle that is my life. Or maybe I'm the one that is fitting in your life," he added with a smile.  
  
Parker nodded. "Either way. Same thing really."  
  
With a shiver, Parker rotated on the chair and scooted backward, nudging Jarod over so that she curled comfortably at his side.  
  
"There's a blanket in the car if you're cold," Jarod told her.  
  
"This is fine," she drawled. When Jarod put one arm around her, Parker snuggled contentedly against him. "Very nice."  
  
"So," Jarod said with a practiced calm. "What shall we do for the next ten hours?"  
  
Parker craned her neck to glare up at him playfully. "I'm sure a smart boy like you will think of something," she purred. She had to stifle her laughter when she heard Jarod swallow nervously.  
  
"I do have a few ideas," Jarod murmured. Tentatively at first then with increasing confidence, Jarod ran his fingertips across the back of Parker's neck. He gently caressed first one shoulder blade and then the other. Tiny shivers trailed down her arms as he tenderly stroked the backside of one arm from tricep to wrist. The pretender's fingers spayed across the small of her back teasing aside her shirt until he could touch her flesh.  
  
"You son of a bitch," Parker growled with seductive laughter. "You're frisking me."  
  
Grinning like a wayward child caught in the cookie jar, Jarod shrugged. His soft purr of laughter sent a bolt of need shooting through Parker's body. Then the pretender bent and nuzzled a long soft kiss against the curve of her jaw.  
  
"Mmmm," the pretender sighed. "You smell good." He ran his tongue along her collarbone, tasting her flesh. "Taste good too." Jarod shifted abruptly, turning to haul Miss Parker onto his lap. As he gazed up into her smiling face, Jarod laughed joyfully.  
  
"What's so funny, Rat boy?" Parker asked.  
  
"This," Jarod pulled her closer in demonstration. "I never thought we'd manage it. Not without handcuffs and some rope at any rate."  
  
With her tongue, Parker grazed the skin just below Jarod's lower lip, eliciting an eager moan of pleasure from them both. "The night is still young," she breathed. "And I finally have you at my mercy."  
  
"Exactly where I've always wanted to be."  
  
-  
  
The end.  
  
Author's Note: Yes, all this build up to get them together and I end the story just as they are getting started. It seemed to be the proper thing to do. It is a story of the journey rather than the description of the destination. Thank you for reading. Whether you liked it or hated it, you read it and for that I am humbly grateful. Special thanks to those of you who went out of the way to tell me what you thought, good or bad, about the story and the characters. 


End file.
